rning."

"You can't keep two homes going with only your own two dear hands,
Cassandra. It must be stopped. We'll find some one to live with your
mother and take your place." She gave a little gasp, then sat silently,
her hands dropped passively in her lap, and he thought she seemed sad.
He took her face between his hands and made her look into his eyes.
"Don't be worried, sweetheart; we'll make a few changes. You're mine
now, you know--not only to serve me and labor for me as you have been
doing all these weeks, but--"

"But I like it, David. I like doing for you. I hope it may always be so
I can do for you."

"Would you like me to become an invalid again so you could keep on in
the way you began?"

"Not that--but sometimes I think what if you shouldn't really need me!"
She hid her face on his breast. "I--I want you to need me--David!" It
was almost like a cry for help, as she said it.

"Dear heart, dear heart! What are you thinking and fearing? Can't you
understand? You are mine now, to be cared for and loved and held very
near and dear to my heart. We are no more twain, we are one."

"Yes, but--but--David, I--I want you to need me," she sobbed, and he
knew some thought was stirring in her heart which she could not yet put
into words. He comforted her and soothed her, explaining certain plans
which later he put into execution, so that her duties at the Fall Place
were brought to an end and he could have her always with him.

A daughter of her Uncle Cotton, who had gone down into South Carolina to
live, was induced to come and stay with the widow, and the girl's
brother came with her and helped David on the farm.

Then David made changes in and about his cabin. He built on another room
and put therein a cook stove. He could not bear to see his young wife
bending at the hearth preparing their meals, and when she demurred, he
explained that he wished to keep her as she was and not see her growing
old and wrinkled before her time, with the burning heat of the open fire
in her face, like many of the mountain women.

One evening,--they had eaten their supper out under the trees,--she
proposed they should walk up to her father's path, as she called the
spot toward which she so often lifted her eyes, and David was well
pleased to go with her. As they set out, she asked him to wait a moment
while she went back for something, and quickly returned, bringing his
flute.

"I've often wished father could have heard you pl