"I had the fever and ague very badly, some years since, at the west," said Harry. "It is an unpleasant visitor, doctor; you must rid me of it as soon as you can, for the sake of my little wife, who, though she can endure pain herself like a martyr, is an arrant little coward whenever it attacks me. Don't look so sober, Ruth, I shall be better to-morrow. I can not afford time to be sick long, for I have a world of business on hand. I had an important appointment this very day, which it is a thousand pities to postpone; but never mind, I shall certainly be better to-morrow." But Harry was not "better to-morrow;" nor the next day; nor the next; the doctor pronouncing his case to be one of decided typhus fever. Very reluctantly the active man postponed his half-formed plans, and business speculations, and allowed himself to be placed on the sick list. With a sigh of impatience, he saw his hat, and coat, and boots, put out of sight; and watched the different phials, as they came in from the apothecary; and counted the stroke of the clock, as it told the tedious hours; and marvelled at the patience with which (he now recollected) Ruth bore a long bed-ridden eight-weeks' martyrdom, without a groan or complaint. But soon, other thoughts and images mixed confusedly in his brain, like the shifting colors of a kaleidoscope. He was floating--drifting--sinking--soaring, by turns;--the hot blood coursed through his veins like molten lava; his eye glared deliriously, and the hand, never raised but in blessing, fell, with fevered strength, upon the unresisting form of the loving wife. * * * * * "You must have a nurse," said the doctor to Ruth; "it is dangerous for you to watch with your husband alone. He might injure you seriously, in one of these paroxysms." "But Harry has an unconquerable dislike to a hired nurse," said Ruth; "his reason may return at any moment, and the sight of one will trouble him. I am not afraid," replied Ruth, between a tear and a smile. "But you will wear yourself out; you must remember that you owe a duty to your children." "My _husband_ has the _first_ claim," said Ruth, resuming her place by the bed-side; and during the long hours of day and night, regardless of the lapse of time--regardless of hunger, thirst or weariness, she glided noiselessly about the room, arranged the pillows, mixed the healing draught, or watched with a silent prayer at the sufferer's bed-side; while Harry lay tossing from side to side, his white teeth glittering through his unshorn beard, raving constantly of her prolonged absence, and imploring her in heart-rending tones to come to his side, and "bring Daisy from the Glen."