echo.

"Yes. Ask Dr. Sevier! He's right here in the next street. He was on
your side last time; maybe he'll be so now."

"Done!" said Richling. They went. The rector said he would do an errand
in Canal street, while Richling should go up and see the physician.

Dr. Sevier was in.

"Why, Richling!" He rose to receive him. "How are you?" He cast his eye
over his visitor with professional scrutiny. "What brings _you_ here?"

"To tell you that I've written for Mary," said Richling, sinking wearily
into a chair.

"Have you mailed the letter?"

"I'm taking it to the post-office now."

The Doctor threw one leg energetically over the other, and picked up the
same paper-knife that he had handled when, two years and a half before,
he had sat thus, talking to Mary and John on the eve of their
separation.

"Richling, I'll tell you. I've been thinking about this thing for some
time, and I've decided to make you a proposal. I look at you and at Mary
and at the times--the condition of the country--the probable
future--everything. I know you, physically and mentally, better than
anybody else does. I can say the same of Mary. So, of course, I don't
make this proposal impulsively, and I don't want it rejected.

"Richling, I'll lend you two thousand to twenty-five hundred dollars,
payable at your convenience, if you will just go to your room, pack up,
go home, and take from six to twelve months' holiday with your wife and
child."

The listener opened his mouth in blank astonishment.

"Why, Doctor, you're jesting! You can't suppose"--

"I don't suppose anything. I simply want you to do it."

"Well, I simply can't!"

"Did you ever regret taking my advice, Richling?"

"No, never. But this--why, it's utterly impossible! Me leave the results
of four years' struggle to go holidaying? I can't understand you,
Doctor."

"'Twould take weeks to explain."

"It's idle to think of it," said Richling, half to himself.

"Go home and think of it twenty-four hours," said the Doctor.

"It is useless, Doctor."

"Very good, then; send for Mary. Mail your letter."

"You don't mean it!" said Richling.

"Yes, I do. Send for Mary; and tell her I advised it." He turned quickly
away to his desk, for Richling's eyes had filled with tears; but turned
again and rose as Richling rose. They joined hands.

"Yes, Richling, send for her. It's the right thing to do--if you will
not do the other. You know I want you to be happy."

"Doctor, on