ude, and the
Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. He'd made up his mind to be a physician;
and in a year he was qualified to enter the hospital; worked there four
years, and, by the time he was twenty-nine, he had an office of his own
and a good practice.

"At last, he fell in love with a beautiful woman; she was the daughter
of one of his patients--a Southerner with a little Spanish blood in him.
The young doctor had--under Providence--saved the man's life; and, since
he himself came of a good family--none better--and had a respectable
income, there wasn't much difficulty in arranging the match. The only
condition was, that the father should never be out of reach of his
daughter, as long as he lived."

"Was this Southerner rich?"

"Very rich; and a dowry would go with the daughter enough to make them
more than independent for the rest of their lives. Well, just about that
time, the friend who had gone to Europe came back. He'd done well
abroad, and-was qualified for a high position at home. He was engaged to
marry a stylish, aristocratic girl, who was not, however, wealthy. But
he seemed very glad to see the doctor, and the doctor certainly was to
see him, and invited him to stay at his house a while, and he introduced
him into the house of his intended wife."

Here the professor broke off from his story, and, getting up from his
chair, he passed two or three times up and down the room; stopping at
the window to pull a leaf from the extended branch of a cherry-tree
growing outside, and again, by the empty fireplace, to roll the leaf up
between his finger and thumb, and throw it upon the hearth. When he
returned to the bedside, he dropped himself into his chair with the
slow, inelastic heaviness of age.

"The fellow played him a scurvy trick," resumed he, presently. "Exactly
what he said or did will never be known, but it was all he safely could
to put his friend in a bad light. It was because he wanted the young
lady for himself; he was ambitious, and needed her money to help him on.
What he said made a good deal of impression on the father; but the
daughter wouldn't believe it then--at any rate, she loved the doctor
still, and would, as long as she knew he loved her."

"Why didn't the other manage to make her think he didn't?"

"Well, sir, he did manage it," returned the professor, compressing his
white-bearded lips, and lowering his eyebrows. "He told the father some
story of having met relations of his in Spain; tol