The Argosy — page 383: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

362 Extracts from the Diary of a Young Lady. little wife—you, with your innocent face, your generous actions and your Book, for I kept my promise. I read it every day; I did indeed. If I am a better fellow now, it is your doing.” Was ever any creature in the world so happy as I for that one blissful minute? And then I suddenly recollected that he was going to die. | It could not be. God could not be so cruel. Just as we were again happy, in the moment that my own Marcus was given back to me, God would not take him from me. I clung to him, I whispered in his ear: ‘fi know you will live; I know you will live.” As for me, strength had returned to me in a wonderful manner. I had been wasting away from the hopelessness of my sorrow. With hope, the power of recovery came back. I sat by him and kept giving him the nourishment and stimulant from time to time. And by-and-by he fell asleep, and still I sat by him, while my heart went up to God in prayer and praise. Doctor Winsley called late to see me, not Marcus. He could not believe his eyes when he found him not only alive, but in a calm, pro- found slumber. Beckoning me out of the room, he insisted that Sir James Paget should be telegraphed for at once. “There is not the internal injury I apprehended. I have mis- taken the case,” he said gently. ‘“‘I should like another opinion, and that the best that can be had. It is a most unusual case, but I hope for the best.” “‘T knew he would recover,” I said calmly ; but notwithstanding my calm words, floods of happy tears burst from my eyes. And I was right. He recovered, and the accident left no bad effects behind, though Sir James agreed with Doctor Winsley that it was “‘a most unusual case.” And I got well, too; happiness is a worker of miracles, and I was the happiest girl in England. By-and-by I con- fessed to my husband what I had believed when I found my Bible, and he said he only loved me the better for my devotion, and called me a heroine, whose heroism had nearly cost her life. But the only sorrow I now have in the world is that anything should have made me believe that my husband was —-—I cannot write the word. I am so glad that the belief almost killed me. And if it had done so quite it would be no more than I deserved, and the verdict on my death ought to have been given in the three expressive words: ‘‘ Served her right!” CONMICMOOOKS. ©