His bodily sickness is conquered--it is his mind.

Oh, Miss March!" and I looked up at her like a wretch begging for life--"Do YOU not know of what my brother is dying ?" "Dying!" A long shudder passed over her, from head to foot--but I relented not.
"Think--a life like his, that might be made a blessing to all he loves--to all the world--is it to be sacrificed thus?
It may be--I do not say it will--but it may be.

While in health he could fight against this--this which I must not speak of; but now his health is gone.

He cannot rally.

Without some change, I see clearly, even I, who love him better than any one can love him--" She stirred a little here.
"Far better," I repeated; "for while John does NOT love me best, he to me is more than any one else in the world.