r complexion seemed to have recovered the delicacy and
transparency of early youth, and her eyes their lustrous brightness. As
for the color of her cheek, her husband sometimes playfully accused her
of extracting rouge from her carnations.

Charlotte spoke to him doubtingly of his wife's health, and Lucy said she
"was afraid she would not stand the frosty nights when they came on." But
Mr. Draper was sanguine that Clyde had been her restoration.

When she arrived at the city, there were arrangements to be made, and new
furniture to be procured. Her husband gave her full permission to do
just as she pleased, only begged of her not to call upon him, for he had
not one moment to spare.

Frances exerted all her strength, but it became evident that she drooped.
Her nights were restless; and though some thought it encouraging, that
she coughed so much _stronger_, it was exhausting to her frame.

Mr. Draper at length perceived that she had rather lost than gained; he
went for her physician, and requested him to recommend quiet to her. "I
think," said he, "she has over-fatigued herself."

Dr. B. came to see her, conversed with her, counted the throbbings of her
pulse, and made a minute examination of her case. The conference was
long; when he entered the parlor, he found Mr. Draper waiting. He
received him with a smile; but there was no responsive smile on the
doctor's face; it was solemn and thoughtful.

Mr. Draper grew alarmed. "You do not think my wife very sick, I hope,"
said he. "Her cough is troublesome; but you know she has long been
subject to it. Indeed, I think it is constitutional, like my own. You
recommended the white mixture to her last year: it did her good."

"I recommended a voyage and a warm climate," said the physician.

"Yes, I remember you did; but it was impossible for me to go away then.
In the spring we took that unlucky journey; however, it was of benefit to
her, and if you think it necessary, I will go the same route now."

"I do not," replied Dr. B.

"I am glad of it; it would be particularly inconvenient to me just now to
leave the city. Times are perplexing: bills come back protested--bad
news from England--sudden and unlooked-for failures--no one can tell
where it will end. We have been obliged to stop our works at Clyde Farm,
and there are from ninety to a hundred laborers thrown out of employment.
This is peculiarly vexatious to me, as they made out before to earn a
living i