“‘There’s the bell again, dear,’ said Mrs Ross one day, ‘and if it wasn’t for knowing that you are wanted for some poor suffering creature, I believe I should exclaim against it as being a perfect nuisance. You never now seem to get a meal in peace.’
“‘Oh! yes, I do,’ said Mr Ross smiling. ‘The bell does its share of work, though, certainly. By the way though, my dear, you never feel any dread in having the bell answered now, do you?’
“‘Dread? no; what a question!’ said Mrs Ross. ‘What made you say that?’
“‘I was only thinking of a few years ago, when a ring at the bell sometimes caused one’s heart to beat, lest it should be some hungry creditor.’
“Mrs Ross sighed, and then smiled, saying, ‘and all the rest has come of patience.’
“‘And work,’ said her husband.
“‘But I don’t think,’ she whispered, creeping closer to his side, and drawing one strong arm around her as if for protection—‘I don’t think, dear, you will ever again say that the rich have no trouble.’
“John Ross was silent for awhile, as he recalled the loss he had so nearly sustained, and the scene at the Hall, when the hope of two fond parents lay a-dying, and then he answered softly—
“‘God forbid!’”