"You mustn't worry about me dearest," she said, "I think myself that Dr. Fleming is a pessimist and has made a mistake. Anyhow I don't mean to act as if what he said was true. I shall just go on as I have done before; that is to say after a little rest. I suppose I must have that." Luke was silent. He hardly thought that she could be aware of her serious condition. "Why did you not tell me?" he asked after a pause. There was a tone of reproach in his voice. "I didn't want to worry you, you have so much to trouble you. Besides, I don't suppose there is anything really the matter with me. Doctors make such mistakes." He took up one of her hands and looked at it. He was shocked to notice how thin it was. He held it to his lips and kissed it. The unusual action almost broke Rachel's self-control. She rose saying, "I must go now and see after the supper. Polly will wonder where I am." But once out of the room her tears began to flow. "Oh, I mustn't be ill," she gasped, as instead of going into the kitchen, she sank into a chair in the drawing-room. "I shall be no good to Luke, only an anxiety. Oh God show me what to do. Don't let me be a burden to him." Luke, after Rachel had left, sat sunk again in deep depression. Then suddenly he remembered the letters in his pocket. He had completely forgotten them, and now when he opened for the second time the Bishop's letter, it suddenly dawned upon him that here was the way out of his difficulty. To accept the country living meant that Rachel could live in the garden, and her strenuous life at Trowsby would be over. She would go to the place as a known invalid and would not be expected to take up parish work. The cloud on his face lifted, and the weight on his heart grew lighter. Moreover, the struggle with poverty of which Rachel had been more conscious evidently than he had, would be over, for the stipend was unusually good. With a feeling of great thankfulness, he closed the letter and opened the one from London intending to answer them both that night. Of course the London living must be refused. There was no question about it. But as he read over again the description of the work a feeling of intense disappointment took possession of him. He had been longing for this offer! It was, as he had once said to Rachel, the dream of his life. And here it was within his grasp and yet he was unable to accept it. Instead of preaching to a large congregation and ministering to their souls needs, he would have to vegetate in the country! It would be a living death to him.