“You don’t mean it!” said Richling.
“Yes, I do. Send for Mary; and tell her I advised it.” He turned quickly away to his desk, for Richling’s eyes had filled with tears; but turned again and rose as Richling rose. They joined hands.
“Yes, Richling, send for her. It’s the right thing to do—if you will not do the other. You know I want you to be happy.”
“Doctor, one word. In your opinion is there going to be war?”
“I don’t know. But if there is it’s time for husband and wife and child to draw close together. Good-day.”
And so the letter went.
CHAPTER XLIX.
A BUNDLE OF HOPES.