With the fall term commenced another year of the academical course, when it was necessary for Rich to make a new arrangement with the trustees, who were very anxious to retain him, and offered to increase his salary. On the other hand, Dr. Ryan wanted him to give up the academy, devote himself entirely to the study of medicine, obtain a medical diploma, go into practice with him and finally take his place, as he did not care to practise any more.
The doctor said he loved him as a son, and that if he did not improve the opening, some other young man would certainly come who might be very objectionable.
Rich replied that he would at the expiration of two years, and then agreed to keep the academy one year longer; thus affording himself a year of uninterrupted study, in addition to what he could accomplish while teaching, and resolutely refused all invitations to take charge of patients.
The fall term had been going on but a week when he received a visit from Morton. The inhabitants of the village showed great attention to Morton, as a compliment to Rich, and especially Mr. Merrill's family, and that of Mr. George Litchfield, the father of the young lady Rich had attended during a course of lung fever.
As the two friends were walking one evening, Morton said,—
"Rich, why don't you make up to that Miss Litchfield? She's a beautiful girl, intelligent, accomplished, and of most amiable disposition, I know, for she shows it in her very looks. You are about to jump into a fat practice, that will give you a handsome living at once, and it is time you were thinking of such matters. I know she likes you, and her father is wealthy, which, though I know it would weigh little with you, is not to be despised."
"Mort, why did not you take Miss T., whom you used to like to escort to exhibitions and commencements, and walk with, and who was more beautiful than Harriet Litchfield, and in preference engaged yourself to Eliza Longley?"
"Because I wanted a wife, not a doll, a woman who would make for me a happy home."
"Now you have answered your own question. Miss Litchfield is beautiful and of a sweet temper, for I have seen her when sick, and sickness developes character. She is well educated, sings finely, plays well, is not vain, and is sincerely pious, but has neither industry, energy, nor a single domestic trait. She cannot make or mend, get a meal's victuals, or tell anybody else how to do it. Her counsel in the emergencies of life, which you and I have known something about even at our age, would not be worth the asking. Why, Mort, she is as hollow as the stalk of a seed onion; no resources in herself, and for all the practical duties of life utterly useless. How could I respect a woman who, if she has not a piano to amuse, or some gossip to engage her attention, sits and folds her hands, and resembles a wooden clock, the face the best part of it? You saw how my mother stood up under the load, and took her share of it, when father's property was swept into the Atlantic; and it will be a long day before a boy who has such a mother marries a doll."
"I rather think, Rich, such a woman as you want is not easily found."