ere
drawn close together. Long before Ericson was well he loved Robert
enough to be willing to be indebted to him, and would lie pondering--not
how to repay him, but how to return his kindness.

How much Robert's ambition to stand well in the eyes of Miss St. John
contributed to his progress I can only imagine; but certainly his
ministrations to Ericson did not interfere with his Latin and Greek. I
venture to think that they advanced them, for difficulty adds to result,
as the ramming of the powder sends the bullet the further. I have heard,
indeed, that when a carrier wants to help his horse up hill, he sets a
boy on his back.

Ericson made little direct acknowledgment to Robert: his tones, his
gestures, his looks, all thanked him; but he shrunk from words, with
the maidenly shamefacedness that belongs to true feeling. He would even
assume the authoritative, and send him away to his studies, but Robert
knew how to hold his own. The relation of elder brother and younger was
already established between them. Shargar likewise took his share in the
love and the fellowship, worshipping in that he believed.

CHAPTER X. A FATHER AND A DAUGHTER.

The presence at the street door of which Ericson's over-acute sense had
been aware on a past evening, was that of Mr. Lindsay, walking home
with bowed back and bowed head from the college library, where he was
privileged to sit after hours as long as he pleased over books too big
to be comfortably carried home to his cottage. He had called to inquire
after Ericson, whose acquaintance he had made in the library, and
cultivated until almost any Friday evening Ericson was to be found
seated by Mr. Lindsay's parlour fire.

As he entered the room that same evening, a young girl raised herself
from a low seat by the fire to meet him. There was a faint rosy flush
on her cheek, and she held a volume in her hand as she approached her
father. They did not kiss: kisses were not a legal tender in Scotland
then: possibly there has been a depreciation in the value of them since
they were.

'I've been to ask after Mr. Ericson,' said Mr. Lindsay.

'And how is he?' asked the girl.

'Very poorly indeed,' answered her father.

'I am sorry. You'll miss him, papa.'

'Yes, my dear. Tell Jenny to bring my lamp.'

'Won't you have your tea first, papa?'

'Oh yes, if it's ready.'

'The kettle has been boiling for a long time, but I wouldn't make the
tea till you came in.'

Mr. Lindsay