ou are the only person whose sight I have been able
to tolerate for this last year and more."

I was thunderstruck. What could she mean? "Some caprice, I suppose.
Perhaps my old friend has been putting in a good word for me."

"No, doctor," she said, answering to my thoughts in a manner that
perfectly amazed me; "no; it is not as you think. The squire never told
me until this moment that you were an old friend of his. It is not for
that that I feel myself drawn towards you by some almost unaccountable
sympathy; but, to tell you the truth, doctor, I have long felt the want
of someone to confide in, and you are just the one; you must forgive my
boldness, if it offends you, whom I should like to make my father
confessor."

I smiled at the innocent want of restraint with which she uttered these
words, and said I should be most happy to fulfil the office.

"Should you, doctor?" she replied. "Well, I shall be most unreserved
towards you, and I hope you will return the compliment, and tell me all
it is in your power to communicate."

I looked surprised, and asked, "Of what--of whom would you hear?"

"Doctor," she said, fixing upon me those deep grey orbs, with a glance
that seemed to read my inmost soul, "do not deceive me; you _know_ that
you have been with _him_."

"Who can she mean?" I mentally asked. "Can she mean Charles?"

"Yes," she answered to my thought, "with _him_--with _Charles_. Hide
nothing from me, doctor. I see you look surprised that I should know
where you come from; but my senses are too keen, too abnormally acute,
not to perceive that you carry about you _the particles of his being_
as unmistakably as if you had been amongst roses or honeysuckles. Can I
be deceived when you come to me directly from the chamber of the only
man I ever loved in my life, with the atoms of his nature clinging to
you? Think you that I know aught of your doings? That I have been
informed as to where _he_ lives? I tell you, No; I know nothing but what
my senses tell me. I feel you have been with him, and whatever you might
tell me to the contrary would not make me believe otherwise."

"Well," I said smiling, "I don't deny that I _have_ just come from a
patient in London, whose name is Charles; but London is large, and there
are many Charleses."

"I do not care _where_ your patient is--whether at London or the North
Pole, I shall probably never come across him; in fact, I don't see that
it would aid matters much if I were