we must
not burn it? I saw Marilla myself when she climbed the highest
wood-pile at the farther end of the wood-house for it. I suppose all
the time I have been away you have been remorselessly burning up the
show logs. I don't wonder at her telling me this very morning that she
was born to suffer, and suffer she supposed she must. We never used to
be allowed to put papers in the fireplace, but you have gained ever so
many liberties. I wonder if Marilla really thinks she has had a hard
life?" the girl said, in a different tone.

"I wonder if you think yours is hard too?" asked the doctor.

And Nan did not know at first what to say. The bright light of the
burning papers and the pine-cone kindlings suddenly faded out and the
study seemed dark and strange by contrast; but the doctor did not
speak either; he only bent towards her presently, and put his hand on
the top of the girl's head and stroked the soft hair once or twice,
and then gently turned it until he could see Nan's face.

Her eyes met his frankly as ever, but they were full of tears. "Yes,"
she said; "I wish you would talk to me. I wish you would give me a
great scolding. I never needed it so much in my life. I meant to come
home and be very good, and do everything I could to make you happy,
but it all grows worse every day. I thought at first I was tired with
the last days of school, but it is something more than that. I don't
wish in the least that I were back at school, but I can't understand
anything; there is something in me that wants to be busy, and can't
find anything to do. I don't mean to be discontented; I don't want to
be anywhere else in the world."

"There is enough to do," answered the doctor, as placidly as possible,
for this was almost the first time he had noticed distinctly the
mother's nature in her daughter; a restless, impatient, miserable sort
of longing for The Great Something Else, as Dr. Ferris had once called
it. "Don't fret yourself, Nan, yours is a short-lived sorrow; for if
you have any conscience at all about doing your work you will be sure
enough to find it."

"I think I have found it at last, but I don't know whether any one
else will agree with me," half whispered poor Nan; while the doctor,
in spite of himself, of his age, and experience, and sympathy, and
self-control, could not resist a smile. "I hate to talk about myself
or to be sentimental, but I want to throw my whole love and life into
whatever there is waiting