She scribbled—“Dec. 15. Dinah making roses. Miss Towne wishing for me. Is any one else? What do I wish? My naughty heart, be reasonable, be just, be sure, do not take a thing that you want, just because you want it.”
Dinah was wondering how Tessa’s face could look so peaceful when she was not engaged nor likely to be. Tessa was at peace, she was at rest concerning Dr. Lake. Before the storm was over, he would be glad that he had been born into a life upon the earth. In this hour—while Dine was working her roses and Tessa scribbling, while the snow-flakes were melting on Dr. Towne’s overcoat and Nan Gerard was studying “The Songs of Seven” to read to the Professor that evening—Sue and her husband were alone in Sue’s chamber.
“Sue, I haven’t heard you sing to-day.”
“How can I sing, Gerald, when you are so sick?”
“Am I so sick? Do you know that I am?”
“I think I ought to know; don’t I see how father looks? and didn’t Dr. Towne say that he would come and stay with you to-night? Are not people very sick when they have a consultation?”
“Sometimes. What are you doing over there?”
“It is time for your powder; you must sleep, they all say so. Will you try to go to sleep after you take this?”
“Yes, if you will sing to me.”
He raised himself on his elbow and took the spoon from her hand. “You have been a good wife to me, Susan.”