and fears. The crop did not show upon the vulgar soil, but gave
lurking associations to every half-built street corner which he passed
in his rounds many a day after, and served at this present momentous era
to confuse doubly the chaos of his thoughts.

At last one night the crisis came. Spring had begun to show faintly in
the lengthening days--spring, that so often belies itself, and comes
with a serpent's tooth. Dr Rider on that particular day had met Dr
Marjoribanks at some meeting convened in the interests of Carlingford.
The old physician had been very gracious and cordial to the young
one--had spoken of his own declining health, of his possible retirement,
of the excellent prospects which a rising young man in their profession
had in Carlingford; and, finally, had asked Dr Rider to go with him next
day to see an interesting patient, and advise as to the treatment of the
case.

The young doctor was more pleased than he could or would have told any
one; and, with a natural impulse, seized the earliest moment to direct
his steps towards St Roque's.

It was twilight when Dr Edward went down the long and rather tiresome
line of Grange Lane. These garden-walls, so delicious in their bowery
retirements within, were not interesting outside to the pedestrian. But
the doctor's attention was so speedily riveted on two figures eagerly
talking near Mr Wodehouse's garden-door, that the long sweep of wall
seemed but a single step to him as he hurried along. Those two figures
were unquestionably Nettie for one, and Mr Wentworth for another.
Handsome young coxcomb, with all his Puseyitical pretences! Was Lucy
Wodehouse not enough for him, that he must have Nettie too? Dr Rider
hurried forward to interrupt that meeting. He was actually turning with
her, walking slowly back again the very way he had just come! Edward's
blood boiled in his impatient veins. He swept along in a whirlwind of
sudden wrath. When he came up to them Nettie was talking low, and the
curate's lofty head was bent to hear her in a manner which, it is
probable, Lucy Wodehouse would no more have admired than Edward Rider.
They came to a sudden pause when he joined them, in that particular
conversation. The doctor's dread civility did not improve matters. Without
asking himself what cause he had, this amiable young man plunged into
the wildest jealousy without pause or interval. He bestowed upon Nettie
the most cutting looks, the most overwhelming politeness. Wh