Presently Richling looked around the room. His eyes brightened rapidly as he beheld the ranks and tiers of good books. He breathed an audible delight. The multitude of volumes rose in the old-fashioned way, in ornate cases of dark wood from floor to ceiling, on this hand, on that, before him, behind; some in gay covers,--green, blue, crimson,--with gilding and embossing; some in the sumptuous leathers of France, Russia, Morocco, Turkey; others in worn attire, battered and venerable, dingy but precious,--the gray heads of the council. The two men rose and moved about among those silent wits and philosophers, and, from the very embarrassment of the inner riches, fell to talking of letter-press and bindings, with maybe some effort on the part of each to seem the better acquainted with Caxton, the Elzevirs, and other like immortals. They easily passed to a competitive enumeration of the rare books they had seen or not seen here and there in other towns and countries. Richling admitted he had travelled, and the conversation turned upon noted buildings and famous old nooks in distant cities where both had been. So they moved slowly back to their chairs, and stood by them, still contemplating the books. But as they sank again into their seats the one thought which had fastened itself in the minds of both found fresh expression. Richling began, smilingly, as if the subject had not been dropped at all,--"I oughtn't to speak as if I didn't realize my good fortune, for I do." "I believe you do," said the Doctor, reaching toward the fire-irons. "Yes. Still, I lose patience with myself to find myself taking Mary's absence so hard." "All hardships are comparative," said the Doctor. "Certainly they are," replied Richling. "I lie sometimes and think of men who have been political prisoners, shut away from wife and children, with war raging outside and no news coming in." "Think of the common poor," exclaimed Dr. Sevier,--"the thousands of sailors' wives and soldiers' wives. Where does that thought carry you?" "It carries me," responded the other, with a low laugh, "to where I'm always a little ashamed of myself." "I didn't mean it to do that," said the Doctor; "I can imagine how you miss your wife. I miss her myself." "Oh! but she's here on this earth. She's alive and well. Any burden is light when I think of that--pardon me, Doctor!" "Go on, go on. Anything you please about her, Richling." The Doctor half sat, half lay in his chair, his eyes partly closed. "Go on," he repeated. "I was only going to say that long before Mary went away, many a time when she and I were fighting starvation at close quarters, I have looked at her and said to myself, 'What if I were in Dr. Sevier's place?' and it gave me strength to rise up and go on." "You were right."