d the old man, "at the end of a week; let
me feel that comfort when you say good-by on your wedding-day."

Charlotte had promised, with her arms round his neck and her bright hair
touching his silver locks. And now April had set in, and the days flew
fast. All was bustle and confusion, and milliners and dressmakers worked
as though there had never been a bride before, and Charlotte, too,
believed there had never been so happy, so fortunate, so altogether
blessed a woman as herself.

One of those spring days, for the weather was particularly lovely, Mr.
Harman came home earlier than usual and went to his study. For no
special reason he had found it impossible to settle to any active work
that morning. He had hastened home, and now taking his accustomed
medicine, lay back in his armchair to rest. The medicine he had taken
was partly of a sedative character, but to-day it failed in all soothing
effects. That bloodhound Thought was near, and with a bound it sprang
forward and settled its fangs into his heartstrings.

Mr. Harman could not sit still, he rose and began to pace his room.
Stay--how could he quiet this monster of remorse and reflection? Would
death do it by and by? He shook his head as this idea came to him. Were
death but an annihilation he could, would, how gladly, welcome it, but
all his firmest convictions pointed to a God and a future. A future to
him meant retribution. He found it absolutely impossible to comfort his
heart with so false a doctrine as that of annihilation. In the midst of
his meditations his brother Jasper entered.

"Good Heavens! John, you do look bad!" he exclaimed almost
involuntarily, noticing the anguish on the fine old face.

"I'm a very miserable man," answered John Harman, and he sank down into
a chair as he spoke.

"I would not think so much about my health," said Jasper; "doctors are
the most mistaken fools under the sun. I knew a man out in Australia,
and the first medical man in Sydney told him he had not a week to live.
He came home and made his will and bid all his relations good-by. Well,
what were the consequences? The week came to an end, but not the man; my
dear John, that man is alive now, and what is more, he is in the
enjoyment of perfect health. The doctor was all wrong; they are mortal
like ourselves, man, and by no means infallible. I would not take my
death for granted, if I were you; I would determine to take out a fresh
lease of life when Charlotte is married