fore he found out that he loved this woman, whom now he could no
more hope to impress in a few hours' time than a late afternoon sun
might think to melt an iceberg.

"It would take a man a lifetime to make her understand that he loved
her," groaned the doctor, "and I've only got two days;" and more than
ever his anxiety deepened as he wondered whether, after they returned
home, she would allow him to continue these friendly and familiar
relations. This uncertainty led to a most unfortunate precipitation on
his part. The night before they were to go, he found Hetty at sunset
sitting under the trees, and looking dreamily out to sea. Her attitude
and her look were pensive. He had never seen such an expression on
Hetty's face or figure, and it gave him a warmer yearning towards her
than he had ever yet dared to let himself feel. It was just time for the
lamp in the lighthouse to be lit, and Hetty was watching for it. As the
doctor approached her, she said, "I am waiting for the lighthouse light
to flash out. I like so to see its first ray. It is like seeing a new
planet made." Dr. Eben sat down by her side, and they both waited in
silence for the light. The whole western and southern sky glowed red; a
high wind had been blowing all day, and the water was covered with foamy
white caps; the tall, slender obelisk of the lighthouse stood out black
against the red sky, and the shining waves leaped up and broke about its
base. But all was quiet in the sheltered curve of the beach on which
Hetty and Dr. Eben were sitting: the low surf rose and fell as gently as
if it had a tide of its own, which no storm could touch. Presently the
bright light flashed from the tower, shone one moment on the water of
the river's mouth, then was gone.

"Now it is lighting the open sea," said Hetty. In a few moments more the
lantern had swung round, and again the bright rays streamed towards the
beach, almost reaching the shore.

"And now it is lighting us," said Dr. Eben: "I wish it were as easy to
get light upon one's path in life, as it is to hang a lantern in a
tower."

Hetty laughed.

"Are you often puzzled?" she asked lightly.

"No," said the doctor, "I never have been, but I am now."

"What about?" asked Hetty, innocently: "I don't see what there is to
puzzle you here."

"You, Miss Gunn," stoutly answered Dr. Eben, feeling as if he were
taking a header into unfathomed waters.

"Me!" exclaimed Hetty, in a tone of utmost surprise. "Wh