“But why have you never let him see that you liked him?” “I couldn’t do that, doctor. He knows that we are good friends.” “Has he ever spoken of marriage?” “No.” “Would you marry him if he asked you?” “If he loved me—never without.” “What if I should find out his feelings for you?” “Oh, not for the world, doctor! Let that come of his own free will if at all.” “But you are ill, child, and you are letting the matter prey upon your strength and health. Mr. Thomas is a noble young man, and I believe is fond of you.” “We must wait, doctor. I shall be better soon.” Mr. Thomas called a few days later, but Edith was too ill to see him, and he left his regrets with her parents. He went home sadly to think of his future. He loved Edith, he was happy in her refined society, but his salary was not large, and he could not support her as he desired. She would tire of the home he could give her, and be unhappy, he thought. He called again, but as before was unable to see Edith. He finally resolved to talk with her parents and tell them of his love for her, and why he had waited until he was better able to provide for her; but she was an only child, and he hesitated to commit himself. Others liked her, and he loved her too well to take her into privation. Besides, the parents, while they liked him, might not be at all willing to give him their daughter. He would talk with her physician, and she, a woman, would know whether Edith were really interested in him. He called upon Dr. Mary Armstrong as soon as possible. “I have come to ask about my friend, Miss Sinclair,” he said, as he sat in the physician’s parlor. “Is she better?” “No, she does not mend at all. There seems to be some weight upon her heart or life that is breaking her down.” The blood came to the young man’s face, but how could he know that “the weight” upon her heart meant love for him! Perhaps he was too presuming. After an awkward silence he said, “Doctor, I must confide in you. I love Miss Sinclair, but I have never had the means to marry her. I have had a mother and sister to make a home for, and I could not ask another to share my poverty. I do not know that Edith returns my affection, though we have had a delightful friendship together.” “She loves you, I feel sure,” said her doctor, “and I think your mistake has been that you and she have not had an understanding sooner. Edith is a sensitive, lovely girl, delicately reared, and almost too careful of the conventionalities of life, or she would have shown her love for you.” “Do you think the time has come to tell her that I love her?” “Perhaps not just yet. I will tell her of our conversation and make her ready for the meeting.” Young Thomas went away with a lighter heart than he had had for months. At last Edith would know all and wait for him, if she loved him.