"Are you joking now, or serious?" asked Mrs. Murray.

"I cannot myself see any humor in what I have to say," replied Mr.
Dudley; "but I am told that even professional humorists seldom enjoy
jokes at their own expense. The case is this. My doctors, who give me
their word of honor that they are not more ignorant than the average of
their profession, told me long ago that I might die at any moment. I
knew then that I must be quite safe, and thought no more about it. Their
first guess was wrong. Instead of going off suddenly and without notice,
as a colonel of New York volunteers should, I began last summer to go
off by bits, as though I were ashamed to be seen running away. This time
the doctors won't say any thing, which alarms me. I have watched myself
and them for some weeks until I feel pretty confident that I had better
get ready to start. All through life I have been thinking how I could
best get out of it, and on the whole I am well enough satisfied with
this way, except on Esther's account, and it is about her that I want to
consult you."

Mrs. Murray knew her brother-in-law too well to irritate him by
condolence or sympathy. She said only: "Why be anxious? Esther can take
care of herself. Perhaps she will marry, but if not, she has nothing to
fear. The unmarried women nowadays are better off than the married
ones."

"Oh!" said Mr. Dudley with his usual air of deep gravity; "it is not
she, but her husband who is on my mind. I have hated the fellow all his
life. About twice a year I have treacherously stabbed him in the back as
he was going out of my own front door. I knew that he would interfere
with my comfort if I let him get a footing. After all he was always a