o go."

"May I see Mr. Linden?" was the next question in a lighter tone; and
receiving permission the doctor moved himself up stairs. He entered Mr.
Linden's room with a quiet, composed air, very different from the
jaunty manner of yesterday; and applied himself with business quiet to
Mr. Linden's state and wants. And the reception he met was not one to
set him a talking. It was not tinged with the various feelings which
the _thought_ of him had stirred in Mr. Linden's mind that night and
morning,--if they lived still it was in the background. The grasp of
his hand was firmer than usual, the tone more earnest, which said, "I
am very glad to see you!"--and yet the doctor felt that in them both
there was more--and also less--than mere personal feeling.

He had nearly finished the arrangements of Mr. Linden's arm when he
remarked, "Did you hear the result of our expedition yesterday?"

A grave 'yes,' answered him.

"You see," said the doctor, "I couldn't manage the wind!"

But to that there was no reply.

"It was just that," said the doctor. "Those horses had been taking
whiskey, I believe, instead of oats; and the wind just made them mad.
They ran for pure love of running!--till a little villain threw up his
hat at them--and then indeed it was which could catch the clouds first."

If the doctor wanted help in his account, he got none. He drew back and
took a survey.

"What's the matter, Linden?--you look more severe at me this morning
than Miss Derrick does;--and I am sure she has the most reason."

"I have a prudent fit come over me once in a while," said Mr. Linden
goodhumouredly, but with a little restless change of position. "I'm
afraid if I talk much upon this subject I shall get out of
patience--and I couldn't lay all the blame of that upon you."

"What blame--do you pretend--to lay upon me, as it is?" said the doctor
not illhumouredly.

"There'll be no pretence about it--when I lay it on," said Mr. Linden.

"Enact Macduff--and lay on!" said the doctor smiling.

"Let it suffice you that I could if I would."

"The shadows of strokes suffice me!" said the doctor. "Am I a man of
straw? Do you take me for Sir Andrew Aguecheck? 'horribly valiant'
after his fashion. What have I done, man?" He stood, carelessly
handsome an handsomely careless, before the couch, looking down upon
Mr. Linden as if resolved to have something out of him.

A part of the description applied well to the face he was looking
at--y