ustere gravity. Dr. Sevier
was angry. He had no definite charge to make, but that did not lessen
his displeasure. After long, unpleasant wondering, and long trusting to
see Richling some day on the street, he had at length driven by this
way purposely to see if they had indeed left town, as they had been so
imperiously commanded to do.

This incident, trivial as it was, roused Mary to thought; and all the
rest of the day the thought worked with energy to dislodge the frame of
mind that she had acquired from her husband.

When John came home that night and pressed her to his bosom she was
silent. And when he held her off a little and looked into her eyes, and
she tried to better her smile, those eyes stood full to the lashes and
she looked down.

"What's the matter?" asked he, quickly.

"Nothing!" She looked up again, with a little laugh.

He took a chair and drew her down upon his lap.

"What's the matter with my girl?"

"I don't know."

"How,--you don't know?"

"Why, I simply don't. I can't make out what it is. If I could I'd tell
you; but I don't know at all." After they had sat silent a few
moments:--

"I wonder"--she began.

"You wonder what?" asked he, in a rallying tone.

"I wonder if there's such a thing as being too contented."

Richling began to hum, with a playful manner:--

"'And she's all the world to me.'

Is that being too"--

"Stop!" said Mary. "That's it." She laid her hand upon his shoulder.
"You've said it. That's what I ought not to be!"

"Why, Mary, what on earth"-- His face flamed up "John, I'm willing to
be _more_ than all the rest of the world to you. I always must be
that. I'm going to be that forever. And you"--she kissed him
passionately--"you're all the world to me! But I've no right to be _all_
the world to _you_. And you mustn't allow it. It's making it too small!"

"Mary, what are you saying?"

"Don't, John. Don't speak that way. I'm not saying anything. I'm only
trying to say something, I don't know what."

"Neither do I," was the mock-rueful answer.

"I only know," replied Mary, the vision of Dr. Sevier's carriage
passing before her abstracted eyes, and of the Doctor's pale face bowing
austerely within it, "that if you don't take any part or interest in the
outside world it'll take none in you; do you think it will?"

"And who cares if it doesn't?" cried John, clasping her to his bosom.

"I do," she replied. "Yes, I do. I've no right to steal you from the