I thought her waking up to a better state of mind, through the irrepressible yearnings of a soul that could find no sustenance amid the husks of this outer life.

“They go but a little way towards making up the aggregate of human happiness,” said I.

“All well enough in their place.  But, to my thinking, sadly out of place here.  We must have society, Doctor.”

“True.”  My voice was a little rough.  I had mistaken her.

“But there is no society here!” And she tossed her head a little contemptuously.

“Not much fashionable society I will grant you, Delia.”

She pursed up her lips and looked disagreeable.

“I shall die of ennui before six months.  What am I to do with myself?”

“Act like a true woman,” said I, firmly.

She lifted her eyes suddenly to my face as if I had presumed.

“Do your duty as a wife and mother,” I added, “and there will be no danger of your dying with ennui.”

“You speak as if I were derelict in this matter.”

She drew herself up with some dignity of manner.

“I merely prescribed a remedy for a disease from which you are suffering,” said I, calmly.  “Thousands of women scattered all over the land are martyrs to this disease; and there is only one remedy—­that which I offer to you, Delia.”

I think she saw, from my manner, that it would be useless to quarrel with me.  I was so much in earnest that truth came to my lips in any attempt at utterance.

“What would you have me do, Doctor?” There was a petty fretfulness in her voice.  “Turn cook or nursery-maid?”

“Yes, rather than sit idle, and let your restless mind fret itself for want of useful employment into unhappiness.”

“I cannot take your prescription in that crude form,” she replied, with more seriousness than I had expected.

“It is not requisite to a cure,” said I.  “Only let your thought and purpose fall into the sphere of home.  Think of your husband as one to be made happier by your personal control of such household matters as touch his comfort; of your babes as tender, precious things, blessed by your sleepless care, or hurt by your neglect; of your domestics, as requiring orderly supervision, lest they bring discord into your home, or waste your substance.  Every household, Delia, is a little government, and the governor must be as watchful over all its concerns as the governor of a state.  Take, then, the reins of office firmly into your hands, dispose of everything according to the best of your judgment, and require orderly obedience from every subject.  But act wisely and kindly.  Do this, my young friend, and you will not be troubled with the fashionable complaint—­ennui.”

“That is, sink down into a mere housekeeper,” she remarked; “weigh out the flour, count the eggs, fill the sugar bowls, and grow learned in cookery-books.  I think I see myself wandering about from cellar to garret, jingling a great bunch of keys, prying into rubbish-corners, and scolding lazy cooks and idle chambermaids!”