leasure, his countenance glowed, and enjoyment of the subject was
expressed in all his person. Beth's better nature revolted, but alas!
she had become so familiar with such subjects by this time that,
although she loathed them, she could not banish them. Life from her
husband's point of view was a torment to her, yet under the pressure
of his immediate influence it was forced upon her attention more and
more--from his point of view.

When she went to bed on his festive nights she suffered from the dread
of being disturbed. If her husband were called out at night
professionally, it was a pleasure to her to lie awake so that she
might be ready to rise the moment he returned, and get him anything he
wanted. On those occasions she always had a tray ready for him, with
soup to be heated, or coffee to be made over a spirit-lamp, and any
little dainty she thought would refresh him. She was fully in sympathy
with him in his work, and would have spared herself no fatigue to make
it easier for him, but she despised him for his vices, and refused to
sacrifice herself in order to make them pleasanter for him. When he
stayed up smoking and drinking half the night she resented the loss of
sleep entailed upon her, which meant less energy for her own work the
next day. The dread of being disturbed made her restless, and the
futility of it under the circumstances exasperated her. She suffered,
too, more than can be mentioned, from the smell of alcohol and
tobacco, of which he reeked, and from which he took no trouble to
purify himself. Often and often, when she had tossed herself into a
fever on these dreadful nights, she craved for long hours, with
infinite yearning, to be safe from disturbance, in purity and peace;
and thought how happily, how serenely she would have slept until the
morning, and how strong and fresh she would have arisen for another
day's work had she been left alone. Only once, however, did she
complain. Dan was going out in a particularly cheerful mood that
night.

"Shall you be late?" she asked.

"Yes, probably. Why?"

"I was thinking, if you wouldn't mind, I would have a bed made up for
you in the spare room. _I_ only sleep in snatches when you are out and
I am expecting you. Every sound rouses me. I think it is the door
opening. And then when you do come it disturbs me, and I do not sleep
again. If you don't mind I should prefer to be alone--on your late
nights--your late festive nights."

Dr. Maclure stoo