Human love is a subjective thing--the essence itself of
man, as that great thinker Spinoza the philosopher says--ipsa hominis
essentia--it is joy accompanied by an idea which we project against any
suitable object in the line of our vision, just as the rainbow iris is
projected against an oak, ash, or elm tree indifferently. So that if
any other young lady had appeared instead of the one who did appear, I
should have felt just the same interest in her, and have quoted
precisely the same lines from Shelley about her, as about this one I
saw. Such miserable creatures of circumstance are we all!"

"Well, it is what we call being in love down in these parts, whether or
no," said Winterborne.

"You are right enough if you admit that I am in love with something in
my own head, and no thing in itself outside it at all."

"Is it part of a country doctor's duties to learn that view of things,
may I ask, sir?" said Winterborne, adopting the Socratic {Greek word:
irony} with such well-assumed simplicity that Fitzpiers answered,
readily,

"Oh no. The real truth is, Winterborne, that medical practice in
places like this is a very rule-of-thumb matter; a bottle of bitter
stuff for this and that old woman--the bitterer the better--compounded
from a few simple stereotyped prescriptions; occasional attendance at
births, where mere presence is almost sufficient, so healthy and strong
are the people; and a lance for an abscess now and then. Investigation
and experiment cannot be carried on without more appliances than one
has here--though I have attempted it a little."

Giles did not enter into this view of the case; what he had been struck
with was the curious parallelism between Mr. Fitzpiers's manner and
Grace's, as shown by the fact of both of them straying into a subject
of discourse so engrossing to themselves that it made them forget it
was foreign to him.

Nothing further passed between himself and the doctor in relation to
Grace till they were on their way back. They had stopped at a way-side
inn for a glass of brandy and cider hot, and when they were again in
motion, Fitzpiers, possibly a little warmed by the liquor, resumed the
subject by saying, "I should like very much to know who that young lady
was."

"What difference can it make, if she's only the tree your rainbow falls
on?"

"Ha! ha! True."

"You have no wife, sir?"

"I have no wife, and no idea of one. I hope to do better things than
marry and settl