all into the father's consciousness. There are states of
mind which may be shared by two persons in presence of each other, which
remain not only unworded, but unthoughted, if such a word may be coined
for our special need. Such a mutually interpenetrative consciousness
there was between the father and the old physician. By a common impulse,
both of them rose in a mechanical way and went to the western window,
where each started, as he saw the other's look directed towards the white
stone which stood in the midst of the small plot of green turf.

The Doctor had, for a moment, forgotten himself but he looked up at the
clouds, which were angry, and said, as if speaking of the weather, "It is
dark now, but we hope it will clear up by and by. There are a great many
more clouds than rains, and more rains than strokes of lightning, and
more strokes of lightning than there are people killed. We must let this
girl of ours have her way, as far as it is safe. Send away this woman
she hates, quietly. Get her a foreigner for a governess, if you
can,--one that can dance and sing and will teach her. In the house old
Sophy will watch her best. Out of it you must trust her, I am
afraid,--for she will not be followed round, and she is in less danger
than you think. If she wanders at night, find her, if you can; the woods
are not absolutely safe. If she will be friendly with any young people,
have them to see her,--young men especially. She will not love any one
easily, perhaps not at all; yet love would be more like to bring her
right than anything else. If any young person seems in danger of falling
in love with her, send him to me for counsel."

Dry, hard advice, but given from a kind hewn, with a moist eye, and in
tones which tried to be cheerful and were full of sympathy. This advice
was the key to the more than indulgent treatment which, as we have seen,
the girl had received from her father and all about her. The old Doctor
often came in, in the kindest, most natural sort of way, got into
pleasant relations with Elsie by always treating her in the same easy
manner as at the great party, encouraging all her harmless fancies, and
rarely reminding her that he was a professional adviser, except when she
came out of her own accord, as in the talk they had at the party, telling
him of some wild trick she had been playing.

"Let her go to the girls' school, by all means," said the Doctor, when
she had begun to talk about it