“You grant that in health she would be lovelier than most women, do you not?”
“She was more beautiful than most in sickness and distress.”
“Good!” cried the Harvester. “She has been here two weeks. I give you my word, my promise to her has been kept faithfully. As soon as I can leave her to attend to it, she shall have her freedom. That will be easy. Will you marry her?”
The doctor hesitated.
“What is it?” asked the Harvester.
“Well to be frank,” said Doctor Harmon, “it is money! I'm only getting a start. I borrowed funds for my schooling and what I used for her. She is in every way attractive enough to be desired by any man, but how am I to provide a home and support her and pay these debts? I'll try it, but I am afraid it will be taking her back to wrong conditions again.”
“If you knew that she owned a comfortable cottage in the suburbs, where it is cool and clean, and had, say a hundred a month of her own for the coming three years, could you see your way?”
“That would make all the difference in the world. I thought seriously of writing her. I wanted to, but I concluded I'd better work as hard as I could for some practice first, and see if I could make a living for two, before I tried to start anything. I had no idea she would not be comfortably cared for at her uncle's.”
“I see,” said the Harvester. “If I had kept out, life would have come right for her.”
“On the contrary,” said the doctor, “it appears very probable that she would not be living.”