r to do all she might. So daily and nightly she was at Mrs.
Stoutenburgh's bedside, ministering to her in all the gentle offices of
a nurse, and in that line besides where Mr. Linden had declared Dr.
Harrison but half knew his profession. And there, and about this work,
Dr. Harrison met her.

Their meetings were of necessity very often; but no lectures, nor
discussions, nor much conversation, were now possible. Faith felt she
had a vantage ground, and used it The doctor felt he had lost ground,
or at the least was not gaining; and against some felt but unrecognized
obstacle in his way his curiosity and passion chafed. He could see
Faith nowhere else now; she contrived not to meet him at home. She was
out with Reuben--or resting--or unavoidably busy, when he came there.
And Dr. Harrison knew the resting times were needed, and could only
fume against the business--in which he sometimes had some reason.

One day he found her at her post in the sick room, when Mrs.
Stoutenburgh had fallen asleep. It was towards the end of the
afternoon. An open Bible lay on the bed's side; and Faith sat there
resting her head on her hand. She was thinking how hard Mr. Linden was
working, and herself looking somewhat as if she were following his
example.

"What are you doing?" said the doctor softly.

"I have been reading to Mrs. Stoutenburgh."

"Feverish--" whispered the doctor.

"No;--she has gone to sleep."

"Tired her!--"

"No," said Faith with a smile, "it's resting. The Bible never tired any
one yet, that loved it--I think."

"Well people--" said the doctor.

"Sick people! You're mistaken, Dr. Harrison. Sick people most of all."

"Do you know that you will be sick next," said he gravely, "if you do
not take more care?"

A fair little smile denied any fear or care on that subject, but did
not satisfy the doctor.

"I do not approve of what you are doing," said he seriously.

"Reading this?"

"Even the same."

"But you are mistaken, Dr. Harrison," she said gently. "There is
nothing so soothing, to those that love it. I wish you loved it! Don't
you remember you confessed to me once that somebody had told you you
had but half learned your profession?"

Faith trembled, for she had said those last words wittingly. She could
not have spoken them, if the light in the room had not been such as to
hide her change of colour; and even then she dared not speak the name
she alluded to. But she had said it half as a matter of co