“Give me your hand, Paley. Let us not say another word about it. All shall yet be well with you, if you have made your peace with God,” said Tom, as he took my hand and pressed it warmly.
“You are too kind, Tom.”
“But I am talking here while my wife is waiting for me,” added he.
“Your wife!”
“Yes,” replied he, with a smile which expressed the pleasure he felt at being able to use the endearing term.
“Where is she?” asked Lilian.
“Down stairs; I will bring her up at once.”
“But stop, Tom,” interposed Lilian, with no little embarrassment in her manner.
“What, Lilian?”
“Who is she?” asked my wife, timidly.