His main relief, however, lay in his work, and in
this he became each day more engrossed. He seemed
never to be out of his gig unless at the bedside of
some patient. So long and wearing had the routes
become--often beyond Barnegat and as far as Westfield
--that the sorrel gave out, and he was obliged
to add another horse to his stable. His patients saw
the weary look in his eyes--as of one who had often
looked on sorrow--and thought it was the hard work
and anxiety over them that had caused it. But the
old nurse knew better.

"His heart's breakin' for love of her," she would
say to Meg, looking down into his sleepy eyes--she
cuddled him more than ever these days--"and
I don't wonder. God knows how it'll all end."

Jane wrote to him but seldom; only half a dozen
letters in all during the first year of her absence
among them one to tell him of their safe arrival,
another to thank him for his kindness to Martha,
and a third to acknowledge the receipt of a letter
of introduction to a student friend of his who was
now a prominent physician in Paris, and who might
be useful in case either of them fell ill. He had
written to his friend at the same time, giving the
address of the two girls, but the physician had answered
that he had called at the street and number,
but no one knew of them. The doctor reported this