'Indeed!' she said, indignantly; 'he has made me much better.'
'Exactly so, my dear; so much better that he agrees with me that he expressed a strong opinion prematurely.'
'They thought the same at New York,' she said, still resolved on his defence.
'My dear, unless you are bent on growing worse in order to justify his first opinion, I think you will prove that which he now holds. And, Ave, it was, under Providence, skill that we may be proud of by which he has subdued the really fatal disorder. You may have much to undergo, and must submit to a sofa life and much nursing, but I think you will not leave him so soon.'
There was a long pause; at last she said, 'O, Dr. May, I beg your pardon. If I had known, I would never—'
'Never what, my dear?'
'Never have consented! It is such a grievous thing for a professional man to have a sick wife.'
'It is exactly what he wanted, my dear, if you will not fly at me for saying so. Nothing else could teach him that patients are not cases but persons; and here he comes to tell you what he thinks of the trouble of a sick wife.'
'Well,' said Dr. May, as he and Ethel walked away together, 'poor young things, they have a chequered time before them. Pretty well for the doctor who hated sick people, Wards, and Stoneborough; but, after all, I have liked none of our weddings better. I like people to rub one another brighter.'
'And I am proud when the least unselfish nature has from first to last done the most unselfish things. No one of us has ever given up so much as Tom, and I am sure he will be happy in it.'