had a painful experience," he answered gloomily; "a trying and
painful experience; but I trust that you are benefited by it. My
thoughts were continually with you during the--um--the ordeal."

"Thank you, Dr. Hornblower," Louise returned gratefully. "Our friends
were all very kind."

"Doubtless they were," responded Dr. Hornblower, as he sympathetically
wiped his eyes. "We were all grieving over the prospective demise of a
young brother. And yet some consolation would have reached you, Miss
Everett; love is the only pocket-handkerchief to wipe the mourner's
eyes."

Louise blushed hotly at the reference. Although she had made no secret
of the matter of her engagement, still she was a little surprised to
have the Reverend Gabriel allude to it in such an unexpected fashion.
But she was determined to carry off her embarrassment as easily as
possible, so she smiled brightly, as she said,--

"Then you have come to congratulate me; thank"--

"Pardon me!" interrupted Dr. Hornblower, as stiffly as if his rheumatism
had suddenly penetrated from his joints to his manners. "It is not yet
the time for congratulation; and, when the hour comes, it is I who will
receive them."

"You?" And Louise stared at the Reverend Gabriel in unfeigned
astonishment.

"At least, so it is to be hoped," returned the doctor gravely.

For a moment, there was an awkward pause, while Louise wondered whether
the worthy minister had suddenly taken leave of his senses, and the
doctor writhed uneasily in his chair, as he realized that his hour had
come. The hush was beginning to be painful, and Louise was just opening
her lips to speak, to say something, no matter what, when she was
suddenly struck speechless by seeing the Reverend Gabriel lay his hat
and cane on the floor beside his chair, then clumsily kneel down before
her and clasp his hands. For one brief instant, she supposed that he was
about to give her the benefit of his professional services, and she
composed her face to listen with befitting gravity; but his first words
dispelled the illusion.

"Louisa," he began, in a tone so devoid of expression as to suggest the
possibility of his having written out the words and committed them to
memory; "Louisa, behold me a suppliant before you, begging,
imploring"--

But Louise had started from her chair, and stood facing him, her cheeks
white with mortification for herself and pity for him.

"Dr. Hornblower," she begged hastily; "get up, please