suddenly beside one with a white surprise
rather felt than seen. The young moon and the stars shone dimly with
scattering rays, and the lights in the house windows were veiled. The
earth and sky and all the familiar features of the village had that
effect of mystery and unreality which some conditions of the
atmosphere bring to pass.

A strangely keen sense of the unstability of all earthly things, of
the shadows of the tomb, of the dreamy half-light of the world, came
over Eben Merritt, and his generous impulse seemed suddenly the only
lantern to light his wavering feet. "I'll do what I can for the poor
little chap, come what will," he muttered, and strode on to Doctor
Prescott's house.

Just before he reached it a horse and sulky turned into the yard,
driven rapidly from the other direction. Squire Eben hastened his
steps, and reached the south house door before the doctor entered. He
was just ascending the steps, his medicine-case in hand, when he
heard his name called, and turned around.

"I want a word with you before you go in, doctor," called the Squire,
as he came up.

"Good-evening, Squire Merritt," returned the doctor, bowing formally
on his vantage-ground of steps, but his voice bespoke a spiritual as
well as material elevation.

"I would like a word with you," the Squire said again.

"Walk into the house."

"No, I won't come in, as long as I've met you. I have company at
home. I haven't much to say--" The Squire stopped. Jake Noyes was
coming from the barn, swinging a lantern; he waited until he had led
the horse away, then continued. "It is just as well to have no
witnesses," he said, laughing. "It is about that affair of the
Edwards mortgage."

"Ah!" said the doctor, with a fencing wariness of intonation.

"I would like to inquire what you're going to do about it, if you
have no objection. I have reasons."

The doctor gave a keen look at him. His face, as he stood on the
steps, was on a level with the Squire's. "I am going to take the
house, of course," he said, calmly.

"It will be a blow to Mrs. Edwards and the boy."

"It will be the best thing that could happen to him," said the
doctor, with the same clear evenness. "That sick woman and boy are
not fit to have the care of a place. I shall own it, and rent it to
them."

Heat in controversy is sometimes needful to convince one's self as
well as one's adversary. Doctor Prescott needed no increase of warmth
to further his own arguments,