ng of suffocation. The pulses in her
ears were beating like hammers, the floor seemed to rock to and fro
beneath her feet, and the doctor's voice sounded from an immense
distance.

"Perhaps three years. I don't think more. If you ask me for an honest
opinion, I should say probably three years--"

Three years to live, and then--_death_. Three years longer in that
happy home, and then good-bye to all who loved her. Three years! Three
years! The words repeated themselves over and over in Peggy's brain as
she sat motionless in her chair, staring at the opposite wall. Outside
in the street an organ was grinding out a popular air, the front door
opened and shut, and footsteps passed along the hall, a little heathen
idol upon the mantelpiece nodded his head at her in mocking fashion.
Some one was talking at the other end of the room in a quiet, level
tone, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. It was surely--surely
not Mrs Asplin herself?

"Thank you! It is kinder to tell me the truth; but the time is shorter
than I expected. I should like to ask one more question. Shall I be
doing my husband a wrong in keeping this from him? Could he do anything
to prolong my life? I am most anxious not to throw this shadow over our
home; but if he could help in any way, it would, of course, be my duty
to spare him the pain of knowing afterwards that more might have been
done."

"He could do nothing except shield you from exertion, and that you can
do for yourself. I should say, on the whole, that it would be better
for you, even physically speaking, to secure the cheerfulness of
surrounding that would come from ignorance, than to be continually
reminded of yourself by the anxiety of your family. Remember always
that you are your own best doctor! I have told you the worst, and now I
may add that I have known people in as precarious a condition as
yourself live twice, and even three times the time specified by their
doctors. You know what is needful--a peaceful life without excitement;
fresh air, rest, and, above all things, the specific which our Quaker
friends have named for us, `_The quiet mind_.'"

His voice dropped to a softened cadence as he spoke those last words,
and the tears started in the listener's eyes.

"Yes--yes! I know. I'll remember that. Thank you, thank you for all
your kindness!"

The eyes of doctor and patient met in a long, steady glance, which had
in it a light, as of recognition. They