Doctor Brown was rather afraid lest Margaret
should think the house bare and
cheerless in its half-furnished state; for he
had obeyed her injunctions and bought as
little furniture as might be, in addition to
the few things he had inherited from his
mother.  His consulting room (how grand it
sounded!) was completely arranged, ready for
stray patients; and it was well calculated to
make a good impression on them. There
was a Turkey carpet on the floor, that had
been his mother's, and was just sufficiently
worn to give it the air of respectability which
handsome pieces of furniture have when they
look as if they had not just been bought for
the occasion, but are in some degree
hereditary. The same appearance pervaded the
room; the library table (bought second-hand,
it must be confessed), the bureau— that had
been his mother's—the leather chairs (as
hereditary as the library table) the shelves
Crawford had put up for Doctor Brown's
medical books, a good engraving or two on
the walls, gave altogether so pleasant an
aspect to the apartment that both Doctor and
Mrs. Brown thought, for that evening at any
rate, that poverty was just as comfortable a
thing as riches. Crawford had ventured to
take the liberty of placing a few flowers
about the room, as his humble way of
welcoming his mistress; late autumn flowers,
blending the idea of summer with that of
winter suggested by the bright little fire
in the grate. Christie sent up delicious
scones for tea, and Mrs. Frazer had made up
for her want of geniality as well as she could
by a store of marmalade and mutton hams:
Doctor Brown could not be easy even in this
comfort until he had shown Margaret,
almost with a groan, how many rooms were
as yet unfurnished, how much remained to
be done. But she laughed at his alarm lest
she should be disappointed in her new home,
declared that she should like nothing better
than planning and contriving; that what
with her own talent for upholstery and
Crawford's for joinery the rooms should be
furnished as if by magic, and no bills—the usual
consequences of comfort—be forthcoming.
But with the morning and daylight Doctor
Brown's anxiety returned. He saw and felt
every crack in the ceiling, every spot on the
paper, not for himself but for Margaret. He
was constantly in his own mind, as it seemed,
comparing the home he had brought her to,
to the one she had left. He seemed
constantly afraid lest she had repented, or would
repent having married him. This morbid
restlessness was the only drawback to
their great happiness; and, to do away with
it, Margaret was led into expenses much
beyond her original intention. She bought
this article in preference to that because
her husband, if he went shopping with
her, seemed so miserable if he suspected
that she denied herself the slightest wish on
the score of economy. She learnt to avoid
taking him out with her when she went to
make her purchases, as it was a very simple
thing to her to choose the least expensive
thing even though it were the ugliest, when
she was by herself, but not a simple painless
thing to her to harden her heart to his look
of mortification when she quietly said to the
shopman that she could not afford this or
that. On coming out of a shop after one of
these occasions, he had said:

"O, Margaret, I ought not to have married
you. You must forgive me —I have so loved
you."

"Forgive you, James! " said she. "For
making me so happy! What should make
you think I care so much for rep in preference
to moreen?  Don't speak so again, please."

"O, Margaret! but don't forget how I ask
you to forgive me."

Crawford was everything that he had
promised to be, and more than could be desired.
He was Margaret's right hand in all her
little household plans, in a way which irritated
Christie not a little. This feud between
Christie and Crawford was indeed
the greatest discomfort in the household.
Crawford was silently triumphant in his
superior knowledge of London, in his favour
up-stairs, in his power of assisting his
mistress, and in the consequent privilege of
being frequently consulted.  Christie was for
ever regretting Scotland, and hinting at
Margaret's neglect of one who had followed
her fortunes into a strange country to make
a favourite of a stranger, and one who was
none so good as he ought to be, as she would
sometimes affirm.  But, as she never brought
any proof of her vague accusations, Margaret
did not choose to question her, but
set them down to a jealousy of her
fellow-servant, which the mistress did all in her
power to heal.  On the whole, however,
the four people forming this family lived
together in tolerable harmony. Doctor Brown
was more than satisfied with his house,
his servants, his professional prospects, and
most of all with his little bright energetic
wife.  Margaret from time to time was
taken by surprise by certain moods of her
husband's; but the tendency of these moods
was not to weaken her affection, rather to
call out a feeling of pity for what appeared
to her morbid sufferings and suspicions— a
pity ready to be turned into sympathy as
soon as she could discover any definite cause
for his occasional depression of spirits.
Christie did not pretend to like Crawford;
but, as Margaret quietly declined to listen to
her grumblings and discontent on this head,
and as Crawford himself was almost painfully
solicitous to gain the good opinion of the old
Scotch woman, there was no open rupture
between them. On the whole, the popular,
successful Doctor Brown was apparently the
most anxious person in his family. There
could be no great cause for this as regarded
his money affairs.  By one of those lucky