re not well," said Dr. Harlowe, as we met him during an evening
walk. "I do not like that fluctuating color, or that quick, irregular
breathing."

Ernest started as if he had heard my death-warrant; and, taking my hand,
he began to count my quickly throbbing pulse.

"That will never do," said the doctor, smiling. "Her pulse will beat
three times as fast under your fingers as mine, if you have been married
nearly a year. It is not a good pulse. You had better take care of her."

"He takes a great deal too much care of me, doctor," I cried. "Do not
make him think I am an invalid, or he will make a complete hothouse
plant of me."

"Who ever saw an invalid with such a color as that?" asked Ernest.

"Too bright--too mutable," answered the doctor, shaking his head. "She
is right. You keep her too close. Let her run wild, like any other
country girl. Let her rise early and go out into the barnyard, see the
cows milked, inhale their odorous breathings, wander in the fields among
the new-mown hay, let her rake it into mounds and throw herself on the
fragrant heaps, as I have seen her do when a little school-girl. Let her
do just as she pleases, go where she pleases, stay as long as she
pleases, in the open air and free sunshine; and mark my words, she will
wear on her cheeks the steady bloom of the milkmaid, instead of the
flitting rosiness of the sunset cloud."

"I am not conscious of imposing so much restraint on her actions as your
words imply," said Ernest, a flush of displeasure passing over his pale
and anxious countenance.

"Make her take a ride on horseback every morning and evening," continued
Dr. Harlowe, with perfect coolness, without taking any notice of the
interruption. "Best exercise in the world. Fine rides for equestrians
through the green woods around here. If that does not set her right,
carry her to the roaring Falls of Niagara, or the snowy hills of New
Hampshire, or the Catskill Mountains, or the Blue Ridge. I cannot let
the flower of the village droop and fade."

As he finished the sentence, the merry tones of his voice became grave
and subdued. He spoke as one having the authority of science and
experience, as well as the privilege of affection. I looked down to hide
the moisture that glistened in my eyes.

"How would you like to travel as the doctor has suggested, Gabriella?"
asked Ernest, who seemed much moved by the doctor's remarks. "You know I
would go to"--

"Nova Zembla, if she wished i