Katherine would not share this gloomy view, and was always hoping against hope.  If only the waters had been open, a doctor might have been procured from somewhere; but in winter time, when the small lakes and many of the lesser rivers were all frozen, nothing in the way of outside help was available, and the dwellers in remote places had to depend upon their own skill, making up in nursing what was lacking in medicine.

By the time the second Sunday came, the sick man showed signs of mending.  Mrs. Burton grew hopeful again, while Katherine was nearly beside herself with joy.  It had been a fearfully hard week for them all, though the neighbours had been as kind as possible.  Stee Jenkin’s wife came up from Seal Cove one day, and, after doing as much work as she could find to do, carried the twins off with her to her little house at the Cove, which was a great relief to Mrs. Burton and Katherine.  Mrs. M’Kree was ill herself, so could do no more than send a kindly message; but even that was better than nothing, for sympathy is one of the sweetest things on earth when one is in trouble.

Sunday was a blessed relief to them at the end of their troubled week.  Finding her father so much better, Mrs. Burton betook herself to bed at noon for the first real untroubled rest she had enjoyed for many days.  The boys were stretched in luxurious idleness before the glowing fire in the kitchen, and Katherine was in charge of the sickroom.  She was half-asleep herself; the place was so warm and her father lay in such a restful quiet.  It had been so terrible all the week because no rest had seemed possible to him.  But since last night his symptoms had changed, and now he lay quietly dozing, only rousing to take nourishment.  Presently he stirred uneasily, as if the old restlessness were coming back, then asked in a feeble tone: 

“Are you there, Nellie?”

“Nellie has gone to lie down, Father; but I will call her if you want her,” Katherine said, coming forward to where the sick man could see her.

“No, I don’t want her; it is you I want to talk to, only I didn’t know whether she was here,” he replied.

“I don’t think you ought to talk at all,” she said, in a doubtful tone.  “Drink this broth, dear, and then try to sleep again.”

“I will drink the broth, but I don’t want to go to sleep again just yet,” he said, in a stronger voice.

Katherine fed him as if he were a baby, and indeed he was almost as weak as an infant.  But she did not encourage his talking, although she could not prevent it, as he seemed so much better.

“There is something that has been troubling me a great deal, and I want to tell you about it,” he said.  “I could not speak of it to anyone else, and I don’t want you to do so either.  But it will be a certain comfort to me that you know it, for you are strong and more fitted for bearing burdens than Nellie, who has had more than her share of sorrow already.”