Dr. Sevier Part 48

"I know I was. I often wake now at night and turn and find the place by my side empty, and I can hardly keep from calling her aloud. It wrenches me, but before long I think she's no such great distance away, since we're both on the same earth together, and by and by she'll be here at my side; and so it becomes easy to me once more." Richling, in the self-occupation of a lover, forgot what pains he might be inflicting.

But the Doctor did not wince.

"Yes," said the physician, "of course you wouldn't want the separation to be painless; and it promises a reward, you know."

"Ah!" exclaimed Richling, with an exultant smile and motion of the head, and then dropped his eyes in meditation. The Doctor looked at him steadily.

"Richling, you've gathered some terribly hard experiences. But hard experiences are often the foundation-stones of a successful life. You can make them all profitable. You can make them draw you along, so to speak. But you must hold them well in hand, as you would a dangerous team, you know,--coolly and alertly, firmly and patiently,--and never let the reins slack till you've driven through the last gate."

Richling replied, with a pleasant nod, "I believe I shall do it. Did you notice what I wrote you in my letter? I have got the notion strongly that the troubles we have gone through--Mary and I--were only our necessary preparation--not so necessary for her as for me"--

"No," said Dr. Sevier, and Richling continued, with a smile:--

"To fit us for a long and useful life, and especially a life that will be full of kind and valuable services to the poor. If that isn't what they were sent for"--he dropped into a tone of reflection--"then I don't understand them."

"And suppose you don't understand," said the Doctor, with his cold, grim look.

"Oh!" rejoined Richling, in amiable protest; "but a man would like to understand."

"Like to--yes," replied the Doctor; "but be careful. The spirit that _must_ understand is the spirit that can't trust." He paused. Presently he said, "Richling!"

Richling answered by an inquiring glance.

"Take better care of your health," said the physician.

Richling smiled--a young man's answer--and rose to say good-night.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

TO SIGH, YET FEEL NO PAIN.

Mrs. Riley missed the Richlings, she said, more than tongue could tell.

She had easily rented the rooms they left vacant; that was not the trouble. The new tenant was a sallow, gaunt, wind-dried seamstress of sixty, who paid her rent punctually, but who was--

"Mighty poor comp'ny to thim as's been used to the upper tin, Mr.

Ristofalo."

Still she was a protection. Mrs. Riley had not regarded this as a necessity in former days, but now, somehow, matters seemed different.

This seamstress had, moreover, a son of eighteen years, princ.i.p.ally skin and bone, who was hoping to be appointed a.s.sistant hostler at the fire-engine house of "Volunteer One," and who meantime hung about Mrs.

Riley's dwelling and loved to relieve her of the care of little Mike.

This also was something to be appreciated. Still there was a void.

"Well, Mr. Richlin'!" cried Mrs. Riley, as she opened her parlor door in response to a knock. "Well, I'll be switched! ha! ha! I didn't think it was you at all. Take a seat and sit down!"

It was good to see how she enjoyed the visit. Whenever she listened to Richling's words she rocked in her rocking-chair vigorously, and when she spoke stopped its motion and rested her elbows on its arms.

"And how _is_ Mrs. Richlin'? And so she sent her love to me, did she, now? The blessed angel! Now, ye're not just a-makin' that up? No, I know ye wouldn't do sich a thing as that, Mr. Richlin'. Well, you must give her mine back again. I've n.o.body else on e'rth to give ud to, and never will have." She lifted her nose with amiable stateliness, as if to imply that Richling might not believe this, but that it was true, nevertheless.

"You may change your mind, Mrs. Riley, some day," returned Richling, a little archly.

"Ha! ha!" She tossed her head and laughed with good-natured scorn.

"Nivver a fear o' that, Mr. Richlin'!" Her brogue was apt to broaden when pleasure pulled down her dignity. "And, if I did, it wuddent be for the likes of no I-talian Dago, if id's him ye're a-dthrivin' at,--not intinding anny disrespect to your friend, Mr. Richlin', and indeed I don't deny he's a perfect gintleman,--but, indeed, Mr. Richlin', I'm just after thinkin' that you and yer lady wouldn't have no self-respect for Kate Riley if she should be changing her name."

"Still you were thinking about it," said Richling, with a twinkle.

"Ah! ha! ha! Indeed I wasn', an' ye needn' be t'rowin' anny o' yer slyness on me. Ye know ye'd have no self-respect fur me. No; now ye know ye wuddent,--wud ye?"

"Why, Mrs. Riley, of course we would. Why--why not?" He stood in the door-way, about to take his leave. "You may be sure we'll always be glad of anything that will make you the happier." Mrs. Riley looked so grave that he checked his humor.

"But in the nixt life, Mr. Richlin', how about that?"

"There? I suppose we shall simply each love all in absolute perfection.

We'll"--

"We'll never know the differ," interposed Mrs. Riley.

"That's it," said Richling, smiling again. "And so I say,--and I've always said,--if a person _feels_ like marrying again, let him do it."

"Have ye, now? Well, ye're just that good, Mr. Richlin'."

"Yes," he responded, trying to be grave, "that's about my measure."

"Would _you_ do ut?"

"No, I wouldn't. I couldn't. But I should like--in good earnest, Mrs.

Riley, I should like, now, the comfort of knowing that you were not to pa.s.s all the rest of your days in widowhood."

"Ah! ged out, Mr. Richlin'!" She failed in her effort to laugh. "Ah!

ye're sly!" She changed her att.i.tude and drew a breath.

"No," said Richling, "no, honestly. I should feel that you deserved better at this world's hands than that, and that the world deserved better of you. I find two people don't make a world, Mrs. Riley, though often they think they do. They certainly don't when one is gone."

"Mr. Richlin'," exclaimed Mrs. Riley, drawing back and waving her hand sweetly, "stop yer flattery! Stop ud! Ah! ye're a-feeling yer oats, Mr.

Richlin'. An' ye're a-showin' em too, ye air. Why, I hered ye was lookin' terrible, and here ye're lookin' just splendud!"

"Who told you that?" asked Richling.

"Never mind! Never mind who he was--ha, ha, ha!" She checked herself suddenly. "Ah, me! It's a shame for the likes o' me to be behavin' that foolish!" She put on additional dignity. "I will always be the Widow Riley." Then relaxing again into sweetness: "Marridge is a lottery, Mr.

Richlin'; indeed an' it is; and ye know mighty well that he ye're after joking me about is no more nor a fri'nd." She looked sweet enough for somebody to kiss.

"I don't know so certainly about that," said her visitor, stepping down upon the sidewalk and putting on his hat. "If I may judge by"-- He paused and glanced at the window.

"Ah, now, Mr. Richlin', na-na-now, Mr. Richlin', ye daurn't say ud! Ye daurn't!" She smiled and blushed and arched her neck and rose and sank upon herself with sweet delight.

"I say if I may judge by what he has said to me," insisted Richling.