ight. As he drew near, she ran down the steps
towards him; ran down with no more thought or consciousness of the
appearance of welcoming him, than if she had been a child of seven: she
was impatient to know whether Sally could go to the sea-shore. This man
who approached held the decision in his hands; and he was, at that
moment, no more to Hetty than any messenger bringing word which she was
eager to hear. But Dr. Eben would have been more or less than man, could
he have seen, unmoved, the swift motion, the outstretched hands, the
eager eyes, the bright cheeks, the sunlit hair, of the beautiful woman
who ran to meet him.

"Well?" was all that Hetty said, as, panting for want of breath, she
turned as shortly as a wild creature turns, and began to walk by Dr.
Eben's side. He forgot, for the instant, all the old antagonisms; he
forgot that, until yesterday, he had never spoken with Hetty Gunn; and,
meeting her eager gaze with one about as eager, he said in a familiar
tone:

"Yes; well! I am going."

Hetty stopped short, and, looking up at him, exclaimed:

"Oh, I am so glad!"

The words were simple enough, but the tone made them electric. The
doctor felt the blood mounting in his face, under the unconscious look
of this middle-aged child. She did not perceive his expression. She did
not perceive any thing, except, the fact that Sally's doctor would help
her take Sally away, and save Sally's life. She continued:

"We'll take her to 'The Runs.' Did you ever go there, doctor? It is only
a day's journey from here, the loveliest little sea-side place I ever
saw. It isn't like the big sea-side places with their naked rocks, and
their great, cruel, thundering beaches. I hate those. They make me sad
and desperate. I know Sally wouldn't like them. But this little place is
as sweet and quiet as a lake; and yet it is the sea. It is hugged in
between two tongues of land, and there are ever so many little threads
of the sea, running way up into the meadows, which are thick with high
strong grass, so different from all the grasses we have here. I buy salt
hay from there every year, and the cattle like it, just a little of it,
as well as we like a bit of broiled bacon for breakfast. There is a nice
bit of beach, too,--real beach; but there are trees on it, and it looks
friendly: not as if it were just made on purpose for wrecks to drift up
on, like the big beaches: oh, but I hate a great, long sea-beach! There
is a farmhouse there