repressed. He knew it. But he bided his time. He did not know what
thorough and full accounts of all his evenings went--through the
post-office.

He knew, and it rather annoyed him, that Reuben Taylor was very freely
admitted and very intimately regarded in the house. There was perhaps
no very good reason why this should have annoyed the doctor. Yet
somehow he always rather identified Reuben Taylor with another of his
friends. He found out, too, that Reuben much preferred the times when
he, the doctor, was not there; for after once or twice coming in upon
sulphuric acid and clock shades (from which he retreated faster than if
it had all been gun-powder) Reuben changed his hour; and the doctor had
the satisfaction of wishing him good evening in the porch--or of
passing him on the sidewalk--or of hearing the swing of the little gate
and Reuben's quick bound up the steps when his own feet were well out
in the common ground of the road.

Mrs. Derrick expressed unequivocally (to Faith, not the doctor) her
dislike of all chymical "smells" whatever, and her abhorrence of all
"reports" but those which went off after the doctor's departure; the
preparation of which Mrs. Derrick beheld with a sort of vindictive
satisfaction. Mr. Linden enjoyed his letters unqualifiedly, sometimes
wrote chymical answers--now and then forestalling the doctor, but
rarely saying much about him. Faith was in little danger of annoyance
from anything with her mother sitting by, and for the rest Dr. Harrison
was at his own risk. Letters were too precious--every inch of them--to
be much taken up with discussing _him_. Other things were of more
interest,--sometimes discussion, sometimes information, oftenest of
all, talk; and now and then came with the letter some book to give
Faith a new bit of reading. Above all, the letters told her--in a sort
of indefinable, unconscious way, how much, how much her presence was
missed and longed for; it seemed to her as if where one letter laid it
down the next took it up--not in word but in atmosphere, and carried it
further. In that one respect (though Faith never found it out) the
chymical accounts gave pain.

Faith in her letters never spoke directly of this element of his; but
she made many a gentle effort to meet it and soothe what could be
soothed. To this end partly were her very full accounts of all the
course of her quiet life. As fearlessly and simply as possible Faith
talked, to him; quite willing to be