y had far to go, and the heat of the day had come on before they
entered the place of their destination. It was a woodland village, built
on a nook in the side of the hill, sloping greenly to the river, and
shut in by a white gate, which seemed to gather all in one the little
old-fashioned church, its yard, shaded with trees, and enclosed by long
white rails; the parsonage, covered with climbing plants and in the
midst of a gay garden; and one or two cottages. The woods cast a cool
shadow, and, in the meadows by the river rose cocks of new-made hay;
there was an air of abiding serenity about the whole place, save
that there stood an old man by the gate, evidently watching for the
physician's carriage; and where the sun fell on that parsonage-house was
a bedroom window wide open, with the curtains drawn.

"Thank Heaven you are come, sir," said the old man; "he is fearfully
bad."

Norman knew young Lake, who had been a senior boy when he first went to
school, was a Randall scholar, and had borne an excellent character,
and highly distinguished himself at the university. And now, by all
accounts, he seemed to be dying--in the height of honour and general
esteem. Dr. May went into the house, the old man took the horse, and
Norman lingered under the trees in the churchyard, watching the white
curtains now and then puffed by the fitful summer breeze, as he lay on
the turf in the shade, under the influence of the gentle sadness
around, resting, mind and body, from the tossing tumultuous passionate
sensations that had kept him restless and miserable through the hot
night.

He waited long--one hour, two hours had passed away, but he was not
impatient, and hardly knew how long the time had been before his father
and Mr. Lake came out of the house together, and, after they parted, Dr.
May summoned him. He of course asked first for the patient. "Not quite
so hopeless as at first," and the reasons for having been kept so long
were detailed, with many circumstances of the youth's illness, and the
parents' resignation, by which Dr. May was still too deeply touched to
have room in his mind for anything besides.

They were more than half-way home, and a silence had succeeded the
conversation about the Lake family, when Norman spoke:

"Papa, I have been thinking about it, and I believe it would be better
to let it alone, if you please."

"Not apply to Dr. Hoxton!" exclaimed his father.

"Well, I think not. I have been considering