Paul Drake arrived at the hospital a few minutes later with a razor and clean shirt for Perry. He asked after Della and joyfully heard the lawyer's report that their friend was improving and had regained consciousness. Then, he dashed off to his detective agency, asking Perry to call him if there were any other important developments.

Perry washed up and shaved as best he could in the visitor's bathroom, used a pay phone to order an extremely large bouquet of red roses for Della's hospital room, and then wandered down to the hospital's cafeteria. Despite his attempts to keep his distance from the rest of the diners and remain incognito, at least two people requested his autograph as he attempted to choke down his tasteless eggs and bitter coffee.

His heart wrenched when he realized that he had not asked Bill whether any of Della's examinations would be painful. He could not bear to think of her suffering. Trying to find some consolation, Perry reminded himself that his excellent friend would not inflict discomfort on any of his patients unless it was absolutely necessary.

As soon as he had finished the unappetizing breakfast, he looked for a place within the hospital where he could escape to, to be alone with his thoughts. Dr. Hawley's earlier proposition that he go to his office and work was remembered and would have seemed reasonable under any other circumstances, but Perry could not bring himself to leave the medical center. He wanted to be as near Della as possible. Besides, his head was in such a muddle that he knew he would not be productive anyhow. All his mind could focus on was wondering how Della was, what Dr. Hawley was discovering as he ran his tests, and pray that the results were turning out favorably.

To that end, he sought out the hospital chapel. Kneeling down, he silently and fervently said every prayer he knew, some of them twice, for Della's healing. He was a religious man – no matter how busy his schedule, he had always managed to get to church on Sundays, and his belief in God's justice had been instrumental in helping him avoid the greed and corruption that had brought down many a lawyer - but Perry never remembered praying so earnestly for something before.

…..

After several hours, Perry, exhausted, took a break from his ardent petitions and let his thoughts drift. As his eyes wandered aimlessly over the stained-glass windows and flickering candles and statues of saints, Perry, for the first time, abruptly realized that he was acting very, very uncharacteristically about the whole matter.

Expert in psychology though he was, there was one person's feelings that Perry Mason did not often examine thoroughly: his own. His own sentiments were always continuously being repressed as he put on his famous poker face and dealt calmly with cold-blooded murderers and hysterical clients. His constantly cancelled vacations left him with little time for self-reflection. But now, the crystal-clear thought occurred to him that, ever since Della had collapsed in court the previous day, he had been acting impulsively…almost irrationally.

He had seen more tragedy and misfortune in the decade he had been practicing law than most men would see in a lifetime. He was well-acquainted with hospitals, sudden illnesses, and uncertainties. Why then, had Della's fainting spell caused him to shutter his entire law practice indefinitely, despite a number of pending cases and a pile of work on his desk, without a second thought? Why had it literally brought him to his knees for hours on end?

In the back of his mind, Perry had always known that Della was one of his best friends and one of the few people in the world he completely trusted, and that he cared for her accordingly. But in light of recent events, that explanation no longer sufficed. Perry had to admit to himself that had Paul taken ill instead of Della - although the detective was as good a friend and as close an associate - he would have been able to leave the hospital overnight and would have been able to rally himself to work in his office while his friend was undergoing medical tests. What then, was the difference between his feelings for Paul and Della?

"Good grief, I love her!" Perry Mason whispered in awe.

At the mere admission, a warm feeling enveloped his mind and heart. He loved Della Street! How could he have not noticed it for so long? That was why her illness had almost driven him to distraction – and why the thought of losing her struck terror into his very soul.

Despite the strain he had been under, Perry Mason chucked, albeit briefly. He had seen this happen to other men, over and over, but he assumed that it would never happen to him. At first, he had been a student who was thoroughly focused on his studies of law, and did not have a spare thought to give to womenfolk. Then he had been a busy attorney, and one who had seen misdirected passions lead to ruined lives regularly. Perry had thought that those experiences had immunized him, so to speak, against ever falling in love himself.

However, all such defenses had slowly fallen when the beautiful, intelligent, and devoted Della Street had become part of his world. And now, he knew that he loved her more than his own life.

But what about Della? Did she…could she…ever return such feelings for him? Could he ever persuade her to share his dreams for a home together, for children, and for all the things which came with a happy marriage?

Then he remembered how she had, in her weakness and semi-consciousness, reached for him the previous evening. Surely, that had not been the action of a platonic friend or loyal secretary! No, that had to have been the result of tenderer feelings towards him. He found himself smiling uncontrollably at the memory. Now she just had to recover her health, so that he could declare his feelings and hopefully receive a verbal confirmation of hers in return.

It was then that Perry noticed that it was almost five o'clock in the evening, and that Della might be back in her room.

He whispered one last prayer.

"Please, Lord, let her be alright…and let us grow old together!"

And leaving the chapel, he dashed upstairs breathlessly, to find out whether his world would be nearly perfect, or whether it would be pulled out ruthlessly from under his feet.

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