to bear the mountain torrents of unchecked will and
keep its clearness."

"Hum!--there's no system of drainage that ever I heard of that will
apply up in those regions!" said the doctor, after again a second's
delay to speak. "And you are doing my will too much honour now--I tell
you it is in a state of stagnation, and I don't at present see any
precipice to tumble down. When I do, I'll promise to think of you--if
that thought isn't carried away too.--Come, Linden!" he said with more
expression of kindliness than Mr. Linden had seen certainly during all
the voyage before,--"I believe in you, and I will!--though I suppose my
words do seem to you no better than the very spray of those torrents
you are talking about. Will you walk?--Motley put me to sleep, but you
have done one good thing--you have stirred me to desire action at
least."

It was curious, how the power of character, the power of influence, had
borne down passion and jealousy--even smothered mortification and
pride--and made the man of the world speak truth. Mr. Linden rose--yet
did not immediately begin the walk; for laying one hand on the doctor's
shoulder with a gesture that spoke both regard and sorrow and entreaty,
he stood silently looking off at the colours in the west.

"Dr. Harrison," he said, "I well believe that your mother and mine are
dear friends in heaven--God grant that we may be, too!"

Then they both turned, and together began their walk. It lasted till
they were summoned to tea; and from that time till they got in there
was no more avoidance of his old friend by the doctor. His manner was
changed; if he did not find enjoyment in Mr. Linden's society he found
somewhat else which had value for him. There was not again a shade of
dislike or of repulsion; and when they parted on landing, though it
might be that there lay in Dr. Harrison's secret heart a hope that he
might never see Mr. Linden again, there lay with it also, as surely, a
secret regret.

Now all that Faith knew of this for a long time, was from a newspaper;
where--among a crowd of unimportant passengers in the Vulcan's
list--she read the names of Dr. Harrison and J. E. Linden.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Faith and her mother sat alone at breakfast. About a fortnight of grave
quiet had followed after the joyous month that went before, with little
enlivening, few interruptions. Without, the season had bloomed into
greater luxuriance,--within, the flowers now rarely came; and F