accidents which sometimes lift a man up out
of his struggles, and carry him on to smooth
unencumbered ground, he had made a great
step in his professional progress, and their
income from this source was likely to be fully
as much as Margaret and he had ever anticipated
in their most sanguine moments, with
the likelihood, too, of a steady increase as
the years went on.

I must explain myself more fully on this
head.

Margaret herself had rather more than a
hundred a-year; sometimes, indeed, her
dividends had amounted to one hundred and
thirty or forty pounds; but on that she dared
not rely. Doctor Brown had seventeen hundred
remaining of the three thousand left
him by his mother; and, out of this money,
he had to pay for some of the furniture, the
bills for which had not been sent in at the
time, in spite of all Margaret's entreaties that
such might be the case. They came in about
a week before the time when the events I am
going to narrate took place. Of course they
amounted to more than even the prudent
Margaret had expected, and she was a little
dispirited to find how much money it would
take to liquidate them. But, curiously and
contradictorily enough— as she had often
noticed before—any real cause for anxiety
or disappointment did not seem to affect
her husband's cheerfulness. He laughed at
her dismay over her accounts, jingled the
proceeds of that day's work in his pockets,
counted it out to her, and calculated the
year's probable income from that day's gains.
Margaret took the guineas, and carried them
up-stairs to her own secretaire in silence;
having learnt the difficult art of trying to
swallow down her household cares in the
presence of her husband. When she came
back she was cheerful, if grave. He had
taken up the bills in her absence, and had
been adding them up.

"Two hundred and thirty-six pounds,"
he said, putting the accounts away to clear
the table for tea as Crawford brought in the
things. "Why I don't call that much. I
believe I reckoned on their coming to a great
deal more. I'll go into the city to-morrow
and sell out some shares, and set your little
heart at ease.  Now don't go and put a
spoonful less tea in to-night to help to pay
these bills.  Earning is better than saving,
and I am earning at a famous rate.  Give me
good tea, Maggie, for I have done a good
day's work."

They were sitting in the doctor's consulting
room for the better economy of fire. To add
to Margaret's discomfort the chimney smoked
this evening. She had held her tongue from
any repining words; for she remembered the
old proverb about a smoky chimney and a
scolding wife; but she was more irritated by
the puff's of smoke coming over her pretty
white work than she cared to show: and it
was in a sharper tone than usual that she
spoke in bidding Crawford take care and
have the chimney swept.  The next morning
all had cleared brightly off.  Her husband
had convinced her that all their money
matters were going on well;  the fire burned
brightly at breakfast time, and the unwonted
sun shone in at the windows.  Margaret was
surprised when Crawford told her that he
had not been able to meet with a
chimney-sweeper that morning, but that he had tried
to arrange the coals in the grate so that for
this one morning at least his mistress should
not be annoyed, and, by the next, he would
take care to secure a sweep. Margaret
thanked him, and acquiesced in all his plans
about giving a general cleaning to the room,
the more readily, because she felt that she
had spoken sharply the night before. She
decided to go and pay all her bills, and make
some distant calls on the next morning.; and
her husband promised to go into the city and
provide her with the money.

This he did. He showed her the notes
that evening, locked them up for the night in
his bureau; and, lo, in the morning they were
gone! They had breakfasted in the back
parlour, or half-furnished dining-room. A
charwoman was in the front room, cleaning
after the sweeps. Doctor Brown went to
his bureau, singing an old Scotch tune as he
left the dining-room. It was so long before
he came back that Margaret went to look
for him. He was sitting in the chair nearest
to the bureau, leaning his head upon it, in
an attitude of the deepest despondency. He
did not seem to hear Margaret's step, as she
made her way among rolled-up carpets and
chairs piled on each other. She had to
touch him on the shoulder before she could
rouse him.

"James, James!" she said in alarm.

He looked up at her almost as if he did
not know her.

"O, Margaret," he said, and took hold of
her hands, and hid his face in her neck.

"Dearest love, what is it? "  she asked,
thinking he was suddenly taken ill.

"Some one has been to my bureau since
last night,"  he groaned,  without looking up
or moving.

"And taken the money," said Margaret, in
an instant understanding how it stood. It
was a great blow; a great loss, far greater
than the few extra pounds by which the
bills had exceeded her calculations: yet it
seemed as if she could bear it better. "O,
dear!" she said, "that is bad; but after
all—Do you know," she said, trying to
raise his face, so that she might look into it,
and give him the encouragement of her
honest loving eyes, "at first I thought you
were deadly ill, and all sorts of dreadful
possibilities rushed through my mind,— it is such
a relief to find that it is only money— "

"Only money," he echoed, sadly, avoiding
her look, as if he could not bear to show her
how much he felt it.