"I heard he was hurt," says Esther. "Poor man! I owe him so much!"

It is perhaps well that David Lockwin has had no warning of this
supreme event. It seems to him like the last day. It is the Second
Coming. A hundred little wounds set up their stings, for which the
husband is ever thankful. He can hear her out there in the store. He
can feel her presence. She appears at his door! She stands at the
foot of his couch! She, the ineffable!

"Oh!" she exclaims, not expecting to see a man so badly wounded, so
highly bandaged.

"Nothing at all serious, Mrs. Lockwin," explains Corkey.

"Oh, I am so very sorry," says the lady. "Mr. Chalmers, you find me
unable to express my feelings. I cannot tell you how many things I
should like to explain, and how seriously I am embarrassed by the evils
I have brought on you. I dare say only that I am a person of large
means, and am sensible that I cannot repay you. I owe my life to your
noble act. If I can ever be of service to you, please to command me.
I shall certainly testify my regard for you in some proper way, but it
afflicts me to feel that you are so much worse hurt than I was by the
runaway. I lost a noble husband. If he had been alive you would not
have been left unthanked and unserved for so long a time."

It distresses Corkey.

"That's what he was--a white man!"

David Lockwin is dumb. But he thinks he is saying: "I am David
Lockwin! I am David Lockwin!"

"It is a sweet remembrance, now." Her voice grows clearer. "They tell
me I did wrong to mourn so bitterly. I suppose I did. Mr. Chalmers, I
should like to entertain you on your recovery. How singular! This is
our old family drug store! Didn't Dr. Floddin keep here? Poor Dr.
Floddin! Oh! David! David! Good-bye, Mr. Chalmers."

"He's not badly hurt at all," says Corkey, "you mustn't worry over
that."

"I'm so glad, Mr. Corkey."

It is the autumn of a great misery. The woman is righting herself.
She is trying to listen to the advice of society. Lockwin, by dying,
committed a crime against the first circles. "A failure to live is a
gigantic failure," says Mrs. Grundy.

David Lockwin listens to every movement. The widow tarries.

"Send me a dozen large bottles of that extract," she says, choosing a
variety of odors. She orders a munificent bill of fancy goods. The
clerk moves with astonishing celerity.

The patient suppresses his groans.

"Oh! Chalmers is well off," says Cork