have retired from practice, but I will go and see your mother,
Traverse."

"Oh, sir, if you only would! I came to ask you to do that very thing. I
should not have presumed to ask such a favor for any cause but this of
my dear mother's life and health, and--you will go to see her?"

"Willingly and without delay, Traverse," said the good man, rising
immediately and hurrying into an adjoining chamber.

"Order the gig while I dress, Traverse, and I will take you back with
me," he added, as he closed the chamber door behind him.

By the time Traverse had gone down, given the necessary orders and
returned to the library the doctor emerged from his chamber, buttoned up
his gray frock-coat and booted, gloved and capped for the ride.

They went down together, entered the gig and drove rapidly down the
willow avenue, slowly through the iron gate and through the dark thicket
and down the wooded hill to the high road, and then as fast as the
sorrel mare could trot toward town. In fifteen minutes the doctor pulled
up his gig at the right-hand side of the road before the cottage gate.

They entered the cottage, Traverse going first in order to announce the
doctor. They found Mrs. Rocke, as usual, seated in her low chair by the
little fire, bending over her needlework. She looked up with surprise as
they came in.

"Mother, this is Doctor Day, come to see you," said Traverse.

She arose from her chair and raised those soft and timid dark gray eyes
to the stranger's face, where they met that sweet, intense smile that
seemed to encourage while it shone upon her.

"We have never met before, Mrs. Rocke, but we both feel too much
interest in this good lad here to meet as strangers now," said the
doctor, extending his hand.

"Traverse gives me every day fresh cause to be grateful to you, sir, for
kindness that we can never, never repay," said Marah Rocke, pressing
that bountiful hand and then placing a chair, which the doctor took.

Traverse seated himself at a little distance, and as the doctor
conversed with and covertly examined his mother's face he watched the
doctor's countenance as if life and death hung upon the character of its
expression. But while they talked not one word was said upon the subject
of sickness or medicine. They talked of Traverse. The doctor assured his
mother that her boy was of such fine talent, character and promise, and
that he had already made such rapid progress in his classical and
mathematical st