bed! To think that Roger,--that I didn't want you to buy,--Lord forgive
me, I was advising your own death!"

It was fortunate for Mary Potter that she saw a mysterious Providence,
which, to her mind, warned and yet promised while it chastised, in all
that had occurred. This feeling helped her to bear a disappointment,
which would otherwise have been very grievous. The idea of an atoning
ordeal, which she must endure in order to be crowned with the final
justice, and so behold her life redeemed, had become rooted in her
nature. To Gilbert much of this feeling was inexplicable, because he was
ignorant of the circumstances which had called it into existence. But he
saw that his mother was not yet hopeless, that she did not seem to
consider her deliverance as materially postponed, and a glimmer of hope
was added to the relief of having told his tale.

He was still feverish, dozing and muttering in uneasy dreams, as he lay
back in the old rocking-chair, and Mary Potter, with Sam's help, got him
to bed, after administering a potion which she was accustomed to use in
all complaints, from mumps to typhus fever.

As for Roger, he stood knee-deep in clean litter, with half a bushel of
oats before him.

The next morning Gilbert did not arise, and as he complained of great
soreness in every part of his body, Sam was dispatched for Dr. Deane.

It was the first time this gentleman had ever been summoned to the
Potter farm-house. Mary Potter felt considerable trepidation at his
arrival, both on account of the awe which his imposing presence
inspired, and the knowledge of her son's love for his daughter,--a fact