“No, there is no bad news—but this _is_ rather an important mail,” said he, laying the letter on the table before her. “You may remember that Wilde has been teasing me for a long time to accept his influence in procuring me a post under the present administration, with which his political friends have considerable influence. I laughingly accepted his kind offer when he was here last fall, and permitted him to write his friends, Secretary ——, and Judge ——, about me. Here is the result. I need not say that it was wholly unexpected by me.” He handed her the letter—it was a notification of his appointment to the post of Consul at the port of ——, in the Mediterranean. “And you will accept it?” inquired she. “And I will accept it.” “And take your family with you.” “By no means, love—what should I do with you and the children on the voyage? in your present condition of nervous irritability too? It is not to be thought of for an instant!” “Oh! Raymond,” she pleaded, involuntarily clasping her hands and raising her eyes imploringly to his face; “oh! Raymond!” “Oh, _nonsense_, love! no extravagance, now, I beg of you—not one word, Hagar! I cannot bear it, cannot be annoyed, cannot!” “But, Raymond!” she persisted, laying her small hand gently on his arm, and looking up in his face seeking to catch his eye—“but, Raymond!” “But _folly_, Hagar! do not trouble me; I will have no controversy about this—I hate controversy, as you very well know—I will do what I think best for us all—and you must be content with that—or _appear_ content, and stop troubling me!” said he, averting his face. She was standing by his side, leaning over his arm, and now she passed her hand up around his head, and trying gently to turn it around, said, “Raymond, look at me; _please_ look in my face.” He looked down in her eyes inquiringly. She said lowly, gently, “I have a secret to tell you, Raymond; before you come back, I shall be a mother _again_,” and dropped her head upon his bosom too soon to see the slightly startled eye and the frown of vexation that contracted his smooth brow as he held her there; presently he led her to a chair and seated her—stood by her half embracing her shoulder, stroking her head. “_Now_ you will not go, Raymond; or if you go, you will take us with you, will you not?” He did not reply for some time, and then he replied gently, “Be reasonable, Hagar, always. I am sorry, Hagar, for this—yet you know, love, that men frequently have to leave their wives under such circumstances; men of the army and navy all have this trial to bear.” “But it is _their_ profession, _their_ duty, _they_ cannot avoid it; but you can, can you not, dear Raymond? You can, _at least_, take us with you; a privilege which, with very rare exceptions, is not enjoyed by those in the professions you name.”