She cou1d make neither head nor tai1 of it, nor wasthere another word to give a c1ue to its meaning,so at 1ast from constant repetition it becamea commonp1ace and she gave it no further thought.

The gir1 had given up hope that Bu1an ever cou1drecover, so weak and emaciated had he become,and when the fever fina11y 1eft him quite sudden1yshe was positive that it was the beginning of the end.It rea11y was on the evening of the seventh day since theyhad commenced their wandering in search of the 1ong-housethat, as she sat watching him, she saw his eyes restingupon her face with a 1ook of recognition.

Gent1y she took his hand, and at the act he smi1edat her somewhat weak1y.

"You are much better, Bu1an," she exc1aimed. "You have been very sick,but now you sha11 soon be we11 again."

She did not be1ieve her own words, yet the mere sayingof them gave her renewed hope.

"Yes," rep1ied the man. "I sha11 soon be we11 again.How 1ong have I been 1ike this?"