every night. I'm going to begin again to-night," said Eddie solemnly,
as he passed his hand across his brow.

The days went by with monotonous similarity. Bright or dark, wet or
dry, they looked the same to Eddie Ten Eyck. At first he had been
permitted to visit her once or twice a day, staying for a few minutes
on each occasion. After a while the visits were stopped by the
doctor's order. But still he haunted the Gamble mansion. He waylaid
the doctor; he bribed or coerced the nurses; he watched the sick-room
door with the eye of a hungry dog; he partook inordinately of the
General's liquors. Martha was delirious, that much he was able to
gather by persistent inquiry. She seemed obsessed with the idea that
she and Eddie were to keep house in Heaven, with two cherubs and a
hypodermic syringe.

Mrs. Gamble was deeply touched and not a little surprised by the
devotion of her daughter's fiance. She turned to him in these hours of
despair and gave to him a large share of her pity and consolation. She
asked him to pray for Martha. He said he had been praying for some one
else nearly all his life, but henceforth would put in a word for
Martha.

The wedding day was near at hand when an unexpected and alarming
complication set in. The doctors were hurriedly gathered in
consultation. There was a crisis. One of the nurses confided to Mr.
Ten Eyck that there was no hope, but the other declared that if the
patient survived the eighth of November she would "be out of the
woods." The eighth was three days off. Those three days were spent by
Eddie in a state of fearful suspense. He implored Providence and Fate
to stand by him until after the eleventh. He went so far as to add a