ity from some insurance office. Let us put him out of the
question altogether. I shall talk the matter over with my sons, and if
you prefer not to enter the factory, we can make some arrangement by
which you shall employ five or six workmen here, or more, if you can
accommodate them, to be paid by our establishment."

"Not so loud, please. My wife can hear us from the next room. I was
prepared for the result of your interview with my uncle; there was
little else to be looked for. As for the factory, the mere mention of
the word has thrown my wife into such a state as I never saw her in
before. She will not hear of it."

"Take time to consider it. Will you not come a little way down the hill
with me?"

"Pray excuse me; I am so tired! My knees bend under me. Since four
o'clock this morning I have scarcely sat down, and I am not used to
such long tramps. I almost fancy I am going to have a fit of illness."

"Your pulse is feverish, as is natural after so much fatigue and
excitement. A good night's sleep will set you right again. But you must
be careful of yourself for some little time to come. You may really
work yourself into a serious fit of illness if you don't rest more and
husband your strength. Tell your wife from me," he continued, raising
his voice so that his words could not fail to be heard in the adjoining
room, "that she must take very good care of the father of her children
during this season of thaw, and make him keep housed. A clockmaker,
used to such constant sitting, gets to be delicate. Good night, Lenz;
pleasant dreams to you!"

The doctor had a hard walk down the hill, often sinking deep into the
melting snow, on whose surface lay a treacherous covering of stones and
gravel. He was obliged to divest his mind of its anxiety for Lenz, and
concentrate all his thoughts on the path he was treading. A remark of
Pilgrim's constantly recurred to his memory, that Lenz could make
as much of life as any man, but he craved joy and love; the dry
companionship his home afforded was killing him.

Lenz meanwhile sat alone in his room. He was tired out, yet could find
no rest. He paced the room like a wild beast in its cage. Racked with
pains, and sick in body and mind, his heart cried out: Alas, to be sick
and at the mercy of a cruel wife! to have no escape, to lie under the
scourge of her tongue, to hear your fevered fancies blamed as evil
passions, to be cut off from your friends; sick and dependent upon an
un