t see things as
she did--that was of old; but he contrived to let her see that he
doubted she did not see them right, and somehow contrived also to make
her hear his reasons. It was done with the art of a master and the
steady aim of a general who has a great field to win. Faith did not
want to hear his suggestions of doubt and cavil. She remembered Mr.
Linden's advice long ago given; repeated it to herself every day; and
sought to meet Dr. Harrison only with the sling stone of truth and let
his weapons of artificial warfare alone. Truly she "had not proved
these," and "could not go with them." But whatever effect her sling
might have upon him, which she knew not, his arrows were so cunningly
thrown that they wounded her. Not in her belief; she never failed for a
moment to be aware that they were arrows from a false quiver, that the
sword of truth would break with a blow. And yet, in her weak state of
body and consequent weak state of mind, the sight of such poisoned
arrows flying about distressed her; the mere knowledge that they did
fly and bore death with them; a knowledge which once she happily had
not. All this would have pained her if she had been well; in the
feverish depression of illness it weighed upon her like a mountain of
cloud. Faith's shield caught the darts and kept them from herself; but
in her increasing nervous weakness her hand at last grew weary; and it
seemed to Faith then as if she could see nothing but those arrows
flying through the air. But there was one human form before which, she
knew, this mental array of enemies would incontinently take flight and
disappear; she knew they would not stand the first sound of Mr.
Linden's voice; and her longing grew intense for his coming. How did
she ever keep it out of her letters! Yet it hardly got in there, for
she watched it well. Sometimes the subdued "I want to see you very
much,"--at the close of a letter, said, more than Faith knew it did;
and she could not be aware how much was told by the tone of her
writing. That had changed, though that too was guarded, so far as she
could. She could not pour out a light, free, and joyous account of all
that was going on within and about her, when she was suffering
alternately from fever and weakness, and through both from depression
and nervous fancies. Most unlike Faith! and she tried to seem her usual
self then when she came most near it, in writing to him. But it was a
nice matter to write letters for so many