Oh, the mercy, the relief of those prayers! They may not have done him any good, but they did me.

The hopeless grief that was killing me, I "wept it from my heart" that hour.
"Promise me one thing," I whispered as she rose, "that you will read that prayer, every hour during the day, to-morrow, by my bed, whether I am sleeping or awake." "I promise," she said, and I am sure she kept her word, that day and many others after it.
During my convalescence, which was slow, I had no other person near me, and wanted none.

Uncle Leonard came in once a day, and spent a few minutes, much to his discomfort and my disadvantage.

Richard I had not seen at all, and dreaded very much to meet.

Ann Coddle fretted me, and was very little in the room.
Over these days there is a sort of peace.