“It will be better when you have tried the medicine from the dispensary a little longer. What a kind, pleasant gentleman that is at the dispensary! He told me he really believed you would be better directly, if——” “I shall never be better,—never,—head nor heart, till I see these poor children of mine——and my husband too——” “Well well: cheer up! They will be better fed soon, please God. Don’t let that trouble you to-night, when you feel yourself not strong.” “And there’s Chatham too. That lies at my heart, Mary, more than you know. I must tell you so, for you have been a kind sister to me and mine.” “I should be sorry it should lie so heavy at your heart,” said Mary, very quietly. “I thank you for him; but you must not make yourself unhappy about me. I am thinking your husband will be home soon. The sun has been down some good while.” After a silence, she went on:— “You should have seen Betsy this morning, how prettily she made the bed, though she could scarce reach up to the bolster. Did you happen to look how she set about it?” “No. I have been thinking, Mary, how completely you and I are changed. It is not so long since you used to check me for talking; or rather, I used to check myself, seeing that you were no talker. You used to say that people were not all made talkers alike; and you went up and down, and about the house, just like a dumb person, and sometimes looking as dull too. And now——I say, Mary, when I don’t answer you, you must not always think that I am thankless. And I know what it must cost you to be for ever saying something cheerful and pleasant, when Chatham is in gaol, and the cupboard is so often empty, and I such a poor, good-for-nothing——No, no! Don’t try to persuade me. I tell you I can’t bear myself, and I don’t ask you or any body to bear with me. Mercy! now here’s my husband! and I in this condition.” “Heyday! it is time I was coming home, I see,” cried Kay, good humouredly, as he entered. “You too, Mary! Well, dear, you have cause, so don’t turn away; I have only wondered to see none of this before; but I have something for you both. Something we have not had this many a-day. Something better than ever was in this or any other physic bottle,” he continued, shaking the dispensary phial and telling the news. Mary had no sooner made herself mistress of it than she disappeared, probably to devise the means of getting the intelligence conveyed to her lover. As soon as she was gone, Kay drew a chair beside his wife, saying,— “Now we are alone, Margaret, and times are like to change, so as to give one the heart to speak, I have something to say to you.” “O, no, don’t,” cried she, starting up. “I know what you are going to say.” “You do not;” and he obliged her to sit down. “Don’t tremble so, for I am not going to find fault with you in any way.” “Then you ought. I am a poor, lost——”