cter," said the doctor. "Portia, Miss
Derrick, wishing to save not the life but the character and happiness
of a--But what a way this is to tell you the story! Is there a
Shakspeare here?"

"We haven't it," said Faith quietly.

"I'll bring the play the next time I come, if you will allow me," he
said sitting down by her;--"and indoctrinate you in something more
interesting than my first lesson. How shall I thank you for doing my
work for me?"

"It became my work."

"I am in your debt nevertheless--more than you can know without being
one of my profession. I have some thing that I wish to submit to your
inspection, and to take your advice upon, too. It will be fit to be
seen, I hope, by the day after to-morrow. If I could I would bring it
here--but as that is not possible--Will you go to see it?"

"Where is it?"

"Not far; but it will cost you the taking of a few steps."

Faith declared she had hardly time to go to see anything; but was
obliged finally to yield to persuasion, and Thursday was the day fixed.
The thing, whatever it was, however, was not ready when the day came,
and the exhibition was put off indefinitely.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Those weeks, like others, came to an end. And then Mr. Linden gave
notice to all and sundry of his scholars, that his time of seclusion
was at an end--only giving way to advice so far, as to accept the daily
use of Squire Stoutenburgh's close carriage, until his health should be
in a more assured state. Monday morning he was to take up his old
routine of school duties; though none too fit for it, in the estimation
of some people,--the doctor said it was a month too soon. And no one
could look at him and forget the last month's work,--a little exertion
made the work very apparent; and as they sat at breakfast Monday
morning, Mrs. Derrick made up her own mind privately that Dr. Harrison
should have found some means to keep him in the house and from work yet
longer. But the result of her meditations was not put in words; the
effect betrayed itself in the extra care bestowed upon cups of
coffee--the only thing within her reach.

It was a cold morning, true November, with its driving grey wind
clouds, through which the cool sunbeams straggled fitfully; with trees
shorn of their golden honours, and brown branches waving and twisting
in the wind, and only mere specks of blue here and there overhead. The
gulls sailed to and fro above the Mong as if they rejoiced in the
fierce