Norine looked up at him proudly. “I do wish to have pity on you,” she said softly, “and on myself. I wish we were married now.” “Then why should we wait?” demanded Conway eagerly. “I do not know, Lester,” she said soberly. “I cannot tell even myself; for I love you, and I will be proud and happy to be your wife. But just think, Lester, it seems so cruel to poor Clinton.” “Cruel that you should be so happy?” “Yes,” said Norine. “When I think of his miserable death, and of all that occurred at that time, it seems cruel in me that I can be so happy. I often wonder,” she went on dreamily, “if he knows of it, and what he can think.” This was not very pleasant for poor Conway, and would have been unendurable if he had not known it was only the voice of his love’s superstition. He knew that she loved him, and hoped that this morbid feeling would wear away after they were once married. “You must not think of that,” he said, kissing her fondly. “If Clinton still loves you, he will be glad to know that you are happy. Do not wait, my love; come to me at once.” “No; I will not wait long,” she answered softly; “and we will be very happy together. Let us say a year from now,” she said, looking at him demurely. “That is not long.” Conway was of the opinion that it was altogether too long. “I do not think I can wait a year,” he said. “Think how long I have waited.” But it was no use. She was not willful. She surrendered to him all the wealth of her affection, but on this point she was immovable. “Do as I wish in this,” she said, “and I will be obedient to you forever after. It is not long to wait, and we will be together all next summer; so you will not miss me badly. You will wait for me, I know;” and she put her soft white arms around his neck and pressed her ripe red lips to his. And with this understanding, he returned to his practice, and the days slipped rapidly by, and with the coming of spring came also his love. Conway had an assistant now--a young physician whom Jim had found striving for an existence in New York, and had induced to move to this little town that he might eventually succeed to Conway’s practice. So Lester had plenty of time at his disposal, and they resumed their wanderings through the woods, and their readings in the shade of the wide-spreading trees, and were--as Jim expressed it--“as idiotically happy as possible.” Jim was perfectly content. It had been the dream of his life that Conway should marry Norine, and he was happy in the proposed consummation of his wishes. Conway was a poor man, and some brothers, under the same circumstances, would have looked higher for their sister’s husband; but Jim was satisfied. “What has money to do with it?” he thought indignantly. “We have more than we can ever hope to spend; and when one has money to back him, it is always easy to make more.”