hat then, Mr. Linden
drew back from his forward position; just as a shout of delighted
acclaim burst from both the boats.

"That went with a will, I tell _you!_" said Captain Cyclops with a
little nod of his head.

"I say, Linden!" spoke out one of the young men--"is that your heart
you sent home?"

"I feel it beating here yet," Mr. Linden answered. But just how much of
it he carried back to his state-room for the next hour has never been
ascertained. Society had no help from Dr. Harrison for more than that
length of time. Neither could proximity nor anything else make him,
visibly, aware of Mr. Linden's existence during the rest of the day.

Mr. Linden knew the doctor too well--and it maybe said, knew Faith too
well--to be much surprised at that. If he could have spared Dr.
Harrison the pain of seeing his little air-sent missive, he would have
done it; but the letter could go but at one time, and from one side of
the ship--and just there and then Dr. Harrison chose to be. But though
the sort of growing estrangement which the doctor practised sprang from
no wish nor feeling but his own, yet Mr. Linden found it hard to touch
it in any way. Sometimes he tried--sometimes he left it for Time's
touching, which mends so many things. And slowly, and gently, _that_
touch did work--not by fading one feeling but by deepening another.
Little as Dr. Harrison had to do with his friend, almost every one else
in the ship had a good deal, and the place which Mr. Linden soon took
in the admiration as well as the respect of the passengers, could not
fail to come to the doctor's notice. Men of very careless life and
opinions pruned their language in his presence,--those who lived but
for themselves, and took poor care of what they lived for, passed him
reverently on some of his errands through the ship. Dr. Harrison had
never lived with him before, and little as they saw each other, you
could as well conceal the perfume of a hidden bunch of violets--as well
shut your senses to the spring air--as could the doctor shut his to the
beauty of that well-grown Christian character. The light of it shone,
and the influence of it went forth through all the ship.

"What a strange, incomprehensible, admirable fellow, Linden is!" said
Mr. Motley one day when he and the doctor were sunning themselves in
profound laziness on deck. It was rather late Sunday afternoon, and the
morning service had left a sort of respectful quietness behind it.

"He