"She's my granddaughter, you old fool," Henry said.

Dr. Strong's eyes widened in amazement. "Not little Felicity? You found her? By God, no wonder you look so much better." Dr. Strong hurried around to the other side of the bed and took Felicity's hand. "Ezra Strong, at your service, Miss Storm. It does my heart good to see you here at last, and I know this old coot feels exactly the same way."

"Old coot!" Henry protested in mock outrage.

"Thank you, Dr. Strong. But my name is Felicity Logan now. I'm married," Felicity told him, smiling politely even though mention of her marriage caused her a slight pang. Her grandfather's explanation caused her another.

"Her husband went back to Texas, but she's spending some time here with me, brightening my last days," Henry said.

"Well, whatever, we're glad you're here," Dr. Strong said before turning his shrewd glance back to Henry. "And speaking of 'last days,' how have you been feeling lately?"

"Too good to be stuck in this bed all the time," Henry grumbled.

Dr. Strong reached over and took Henry's wrist in one hand while he pulled a large gold pocket watch from his vest with the other. Felicity watched in fascination as the doctor took her grandfather's pulse. "Hmmmm," he said, examining Henry's fingertips before dropping his wrist and replacing the watch. Then he pulled down one of Henry's lower eyelids and studied the color of the skin revealed there. "Hmmmm," he said again.

"Quit playing doctor and tell me about your trip to France, Ezra," Henry ordered, jerking away from the doctor's grasp. "He went over there for his daughter's wedding," he explained to Felicity. "She married a count."

"How exciting," Felicity exclaimed, glad for something to turn her thoughts away from her grandfather's health and her troubled marriage. "Do tell us all about it."

"In a while. First I think I'll examine your grandfather," Dr, Strong said, moving toward the door.

"Examine me? Whatever for?" Henry shot Felicity a puzzled look, but she was as puzzled as he.

"Because I think you may have gone and gotten well while I was out of the country," Ezra announced as he opened the bedroom door and stuck his head out into the hall. "Bellwood! Run next door and tell them to give you my black bag, will you? There's a good fellow." Then he turned and walked back over to the bed. Seeing Felicity's confusion, he explained, "I live right next door. Henry built this house so he'd have a doctor at his beck and call."

"What a liar you are, Strong," Henry chided him. "You came here after I did and only so you'd have a rich patient close by whenever you needed money."

Dr. Strong found that remark hilarious, and while he was laughing, the import of his earlier words finally registered with Felicity. "Do you really think Grandfather is getting better?" she asked.

The doctor sobered immediately. "I won't know until I examine him, of course, but I can say for sure that your presence has improved his disposition. Why, he used to be downright nasty!"

That, Felicity realized, was another joke, but when she smiled, her smile was in appreciation for the small hope he had given her. In a few minutes the doctor's bag arrived, and Felicity went out into the hall to await the verdict.

"Well, how much longer do I have, Ezra?" Henry asked resignedly when his friend had completed his examination.

Dr. Strong finished putting his instruments back in his case before he replied. "What does Lowell say?"

"Not much, but I don't think he holds out any hope for me. He as much as told me that if I got out of bed again, I'd be signing my own death warrant," Henry grumbled.

Dr. Strong shook his head. "I hate to contradict a colleague, but I think the best thing you could do is get out of this bed."

"Trying to get rid of me, Ezra?" Henry asked with a sardonic grin.

"No, I just happen to think that, in your case at least, Lowell has made a mistake in his diagnosis."

"But you said he was the best!" Henry protested.

"He is the best, in his field. That's why I recommended him when I thought your problem was with your heart. Now I think we both made a mistake. I'm starting to think that spell you had wasn't your heart at all, or if it was, you've made a complete recovery. I think you had a much more serious problem in your mind."

"In my brain?" Henry asked in alarm.

"No, of course not," Ezra assured him hastily. "I said your 'mind.' I think you made yourself sick because you couldn't find that little girl out there," he said, gesturing toward the hallway, where Felicity waited. "Now that she's here, you aren't sick anymore… or at least you won't be if you get out of that bed before you waste away to nothing."

Henry stared at him for a long moment as he digested this last piece of advice. "Ezra, hand me my pants," he ordered, throwing back the bedclothes.

A few minutes later Dr. Strong found Felicity out in the hall and escorted her to the downstairs parlor, where they could talk in privacy. He explained his theory for her grandfather's illness.

"It's hard to believe that a person could get so sick just from being sad," she said when he had finished.

"The human mind is a powerful force, Mrs. Logan. Any doctor will tell you that," Dr. Strong said. "I'll have two patients, both with the same problem. I treat them both exactly the same way. One dies and one recovers to live an active, healthy life. What makes the difference?' He shrugged. "Some call it 'the will to live." That's as good a name as any. I think Henry lost his will to live when he couldn't find you, and I fully believe that if you hadn't shown up when you did, he'd be dead by now."

Breathing a silent prayer of thanks, Felicity sniffed back the tears of relief that flooded her eyes. "How did you get so smart, Dr. Strong?" she asked with a wavering smile.

He smiled back. "There was a doctor here in Philadelphia who did research on the subject. He's dead now, but I was lucky enough to have studied under him. He was convinced that you could actually talk patients into getting well. In fact, he used to tell a story about a female patient of his who refused to get up out of bed even after she was completely well. I guess she decided she liked being an invalid. The doctor warned her that if she didn't get out of that bed, he was going to get in there with her. She didn't believe him until he started to get undressed. By the time he removed his trousers, she was fully recovered and out of bed!"

Knowing she should have been shocked by such a story, Felicity still could not help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

Watching her appreciatively, Dr. Strong said, "You really are a lovely girl. Henry is lucky to have found you."

"I'm lucky to have found him, too," she replied. "And he's lucky to have such a good doctor for a friend."

"Well, remember, this is only a theory. I've told him to take it very easy at first. He'll be weak from having been in bed all these months. He's not to leave his room for at least a week. I'll watch him closely for signs of a relapse, and you'll have to make sure he doesn't overdo."

"I will," she promised.

"And he said something about having a party for you. I told him he could attend for a little while, but no dancing!"

"No dancing," Felicity repeated obediently, but her thoughts were already faraway, on the letter she would write to Joshua. She would tell him the good news about her grandfather, and about her pictures being displayed at the Centennial, and she would tell him about the party, too. Surely the news that a fully recovered Henry Maxwell was formally introducing his granddaughter to Philadelphia society would inspire him to action. If not, the news about her photographs would at least salvage her pride.