child were fast regaining health under his care. But, beyond this, Hetty
did not occupy her thoughts with Dr. Eben. It had never been her way to
think about men, as most women think about them: good comradeship seemed
to be all that she was capable of towards a man. Dr. Eben said this to
himself hundreds of times each day; and then hundreds of other times
each day, as he watched the looks which she bent on the baby in her
arms, he knew that he had said what was not true; that there must be
unstirred depths in her nature, which only the great forces of love
could move. All this time Dr. Eben fancied that he was simply analyzing
Hetty as a psychological study. He would have admitted frankly to any
one, that she interested him more than any woman he had ever seen,
puzzled him more, occupied his thoughts more; but that he could be in
love with this rather eccentric middle-aged woman, beautiful though she
was, Dr. Eben would have warmly denied. His ideal maiden, the woman whom
he had been for ten years confidently expecting some day to find, woo,
and win, was quite unlike Hetty; unlike even what Hetty must have been
in her youth: she was to be slender and graceful; gentle as a dove;
vivacious, but in no wise opinionated, gracious and suave and versed in
all elegancies; cultured too, and of a rare, fine wit: so easy is it for
the heart to garnish its unfilled chambers, and picture forth the sort
of guest it will choose to entertain. Meanwhile, by doors which the
heart knows not of, quietly enters a guest of quite different presence,
takes up abode, is lodged and fed by angels, till grown a very monarch
in possession and control, it suddenly surprises the heart into an
absolute and unconditional allegiance; and this is like what the apostle
meant, when he said,--
"The kingdom of God cometh not by observation."
When Hetty said to Dr. Eben, one night, "I really think we must go home.
Sally seems perfectly well, and baby too: do you not think it will be
quite safe to take them back?" he gave an actual start, and colored.
Professionally, Dr. Eben was more ashamed of himself in that instant
than he had ever been in his life. He had absolutely forgotten, for many
days, that it was in the capacity of a physician that he was living on
this shore of the sea. They had been at "The Runs" now two months; and,
except in his weekly visits to Lonway Corners, he had hardly recollected
that he was a physician at all. The sea and the wind h
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