And then his mind traveled back to the stone bench, and his talk with Gifford, and the proverb.
"Gifford," he said firmly, "give it, if you please, to Miss Deborah." They did not speak of it further.

Gifford was already reproaching himself for having let his patient talk too much, and Mr.Denner, his mind at last at rest, was ready to fall asleep, the miniature clasped in his feverish hand.
The next day, Gifford had no good news to carry to the rectory.

The lawyer had had a bad night, and was certainly weaker, and sometimes he seemed a little confused when he spoke.

Gifford shrank from telling Lois this, and yet he longed to see her, but she did not appear.
She was with Mrs.Forsythe, her aunt said; and when he asked for the invalid, Mrs.Dale shook her head.

"I asked her how she felt this morning, and she said, 'Still breathing!' But she certainly is pretty sick, though she's one to make herself out at the point of death if she scratches her finger.