Weeks passed, and Mr. Sherwood’s progress was so slow as to damp all hopes as to his ultimate recovery.

“I must know the truth,” he said one morning, when the doctor made his usual visit; “it is no kindness to keep me in ignorance of my true condition.  If I am not likely to rise from this bed a well man, then it is time I settled my business; so tell me what you think, Dr. Brown.”

But it is not easy to get a doctor’s opinion, and at last it was decided to send for the famous Dr. Jacobs, and have a consultation.

“Well, have the consultation as soon as possible, for this uncertainty is harder to bear than the knowledge of a speedy death,” said Mr. Sherwood.

Oh, the agony of that hour, when Dexie waited, with the rest of the family, the verdict of the assembled doctors.  As she knelt by her bed, her face buried in the pillows, she felt as if the worst could not be much harder to bear than this dreadful suspense.  She dreaded the sound that would summon her to her father’s bedside, yet, when it came, she rose to obey with a firm step, though the white face, from which her eyes shone almost black in their intensity, was proof of the anxiety that filled her heart.

“My dear little girl,” and her father pressed the hand she laid in his, “it is not so bad as we feared, after all.  Dr. Brown, will you go and tell my wife?  Dexie, do you think you will get tired waiting on me if I have to lie here a few more months?”

“Oh, papa!” She could not restrain the tears that sprang to her eyes, so she laid her head on the pillow beside him until she could lift a quiet face.

“Don’t fret, Dexie, dear!” and he fondly stroked the head so near him.

“I am likely to live for months, and you are such a capital little nurse that it will not be such a hardship to spend the rest of my life on my back.”

Yes, that was the verdict.  Mr. Sherwood could never hope to walk again or be a well man; but he would probably live for some time, his splendid constitution being in his favor.

This was hard news for the family; but they had feared the worst, and so felt thankful for the extended time that might intervene before the end would come.

Mrs. Sherwood engaged the assistance of Mrs. Jarvis, an excellent nurse, to attend on her husband; and as Dexie shared the nursing and relieved Mrs. Jarvis, Mrs. Sherwood considered she had done her duty well and faithfully.  She did not feel strong enough to do very much of the laborious part of nursing, but she was willing to make her appearance in the sick-room when the patient was at his best.  She had been present once when her husband had been seized with a paroxysm of pain, and was so terrified and overcome that she felt more than willing to leave her husband to the care of those who were “so hard-hearted that they could witness such suffering,” and still be able to administer the necessary relief.

As the weeks passed by and Mr. Sherwood grew no worse, it seemed impossible to think that the “grim messenger” was really lurking in the shadow, for he bore his illness with such patience and cheerfulness that only those who were constantly about him realized how he really suffered.