et after a different fashion; and anything less careless than the
look Mr. Linden bent upon him, could not be imagined. It was a look
wherein again different feelings held each other in check,--the grave
reproof, the sorrowful perception, the quick indignation--Dr. Harrison
might detect them all; and yet more, the wistful desire that he were a
different man. This it was that answered.

"What have you done, doctor?--you have very nearly given yourself full
proof of those true things which you profess to disbelieve."

"How do you know that I disbelieve anything?" said the doctor, with a
darkening yet an acute look;--"much more that I _profess_ to
disbelieve?"

"How do I know whether a ship carries a red or a blue light at her
masthead?"

"You don't, if she carries no light at all; and I do not remember that
I ever professed myself in your hearing on either side of the 'things'
I suppose you mean."

"What do you say of a ship that carries no light at all?"

"Must a ship _always_ hang out her signals, man?"

"Ay--" said Mr. Linden,--"else she may run down the weaker craft, or be
run down by the stronger."

"Suppose she don't know, in good truth, what light belongs to her?"

"It is safe to find out."

"Who has told you, Linden, that I believed or disbelieved anything?"

"Yourself."

"May I ask, if any other testimony has aided your judgment, or come in
aid of it?"

"No," said Mr. Linden, looking at him with a grave, considering eye. "I
am not much in the habit of discussing such points with third parties."

The doctor bit his lip; and then smiled.

"You're a good fellow, Linden. But you see, I can afford to say that
now. I have you at advantage. As long as you lie there, and I am your
attending physician--which latter I assure you I look upon as a piece
of my good fortune--you _can't_, knock me down, if you feel disposed. I
am safe, and can afford to be generous. As to the lights," said the
doctor taking up his hat, "I agree to what you say--and that's more of
a concession than I ever made on the subject before. But in the
atmosphere I have lived in, I do assure you I have not been able to
tell the blue lights from the red!"

"I believe you," said Mr. Linden,--"nor was it altogether the fault of
the atmosphere. Even where the colour is right, the glass is sometimes
dim. What then?"

"What then? why the inference is plain. If one can not be distinguished
from the other, one is as good as the other!"

"