Everything was ready; Louis and I said “good-bye” to all, and drove rapidly away, for in order to reach the station below ours, where we could take a night train West, we must ride thirty miles.  The train was due at eight-forty-five, and it was four o’clock when we started; a neighboring farmer (Mr. Graves), who had a span of fleet horses took us, and we dashed over the ground rapidly, having full five minutes to breathe in at the depot ere we took the train.  No luxurious palace cars in those days, you know, just the cushioned seats, but that was enough for me; I thought I could have sat on a hard wooden seat, or on anything if I only could reach that suffering boy.  Louis tried to arrange our baggage so that I could sleep.

“Sleep will not come to my eyelids to-night, Louis, I shall not sleep until I see Halbert, and know how he is and is to be.”

“Now, Miss Emily,” he said as he took my hand in his, “I say you must sleep.  Watching will do him no good until we get there, and more than this, it may do him much harm, for if you get so tired, you will be ill yourself when you arrive and then he will have no sister.  For Hal’s sake, Miss Emily, you shall go to sleep; lean on my shoulder, and I believe I can help your nerves to become quiet.”

I knew he was right, and yielded myself to the strong control he possessed over me, and I slept I know not how long.  When I awoke Louis said we were getting along at good speed.

“Day will break soon, and then comes a change of cars, and in a little while we shall see the great city.”

I was for a few moments at a loss to realize everything; when I did I said: 

“Selfish girl to sleep so long, and you have sat here watching me, and now you are so tired.”

“Not so tired,—­so glad for your rest—­I can sleep to-morrow, and when we get to Chicago you shall watch him days and I will watch nights; we shall go to him armed with strength, which is more than medicine; I told you long ago I had something to do for Hal, you see it is coming.”

The whole journey was pleasant, and sometimes it seemed wicked when Hal was so sick for me to feel so rested and peaceful, but here I was controlled, and it was blessed to be.  I might never have come back to my mother had it not been for the power of Louis’ strong thought and will.

The journey accomplished, it was not long ere we saw the dear face of my blessed brother.  I will not detail all the small horrors that met me in the house where we found him.  It might have seemed worse to me than it really was, but oh! how I needed all the peace that had settled upon me, to take in the surroundings of that fourth story room.  Soul and sense revolted at the sickening odors of the little pen, where, on a wretched cot, my brother lay.  I thought of our home, and drew rapid contrasts between our comfortable beds, and the straw pallet before me; our white clean floors, home-made rugs, and,—­but