woman"-- She ceased, still smiling, and, dropping her eyes to her hands,
slowly stroked one wrist and palm with the tassel of her husband's robe.

The Doctor rose, turned his back to the mantel-piece, and looked down
upon her. He thought of the great, wide world: its thorny ways, its
deserts, its bitter waters, its unrighteousness, its self-seeking
greeds, its weaknesses, its under and over reaching, its unfaithfulness;
and then again of this--child, thrust all at once a thousand miles into
it, with never--so far as he could see--an implement, a weapon, a sense
of danger, or a refuge; well pleased with herself, as it seemed, lifted
up into the bliss of self-obliterating wifehood, and resting in her
husband with such an assurance of safety and happiness as a saint might
pray for grace to show to Heaven itself. He stood silent, feeling too
grim to speak, and presently Mrs. Richling looked up with a sudden
liveliness of eye and a smile that was half apology and half
persistence.

"Yes, Doctor, I'm going to take care of myself."

"Mrs. Richling, is your father a man of fortune?"

"My father is not living," said she, gravely. "He died two years ago. He
was the pastor of a small church. No, sir; he had nothing but his small
salary, except that for some years he taught a few scholars. He taught
me." She brightened up again. "I never had any other teacher."

The Doctor folded his hands behind him and gazed abstractedly through
the upper sash of the large French windows. The street-door was heard to
open.

"There's John," said the convalescent, quickly, and the next moment
her husband entered. A tired look vanished from his face as he saw the
Doctor. He hurried to grasp his hand, then turned and kissed his wife.
The physician took up his hat.

"Doctor," said the wife, holding the hand he gave her, and looking up
playfully, with her cheek against the chair-back, "you surely didn't
suspect me of being a rich girl, did you?"

"Not at all, madam." His emphasis was so pronounced that the husband
laughed.

"There's one comfort in the opposite condition, Doctor," said the young
man.

"Yes?"

"Why, yes; you see, it requires no explanation."

"Yes, it does," said the physician; "it is just as binding on people
to show good cause why they are poor as it is to show good cause why
they're rich. Good-day, madam." The two men went out together. His word
would have been good-by, but for the fear of fresh acknowledgments.