courage to accost him as I did. There was something sly, I thought, in his
dark, lean face; and he looked so low, so like a Scotch artisan in his
Sunday clothes, that I felt a sudden pang of indignation, at the thought
that a great gentleman, like my father, should have suffered under his
influence, and I stopped suddenly, instead of passing him by with a mere
salutation, as he expected, 'May I ask a question, Doctor Bryerly?'

'Certainly'

'Are you the friend whom my father expects?'

'I don't quite see.'

'The friend, I mean, with whom he is to make an expedition to some
distance, I think, and for some little time?'

'No,' said the Doctor, with a shake of his head.

'And who is he?'

'I really have not a notion, Miss.'

'Why, he said that _you knew_,' I replied.

The Doctor looked honestly puzzled.

'Will he stay long away? pray tell me.'

The Doctor looked into my troubled face with inquiring and darkened eyes,
like one who half reads another's meaning; and then he said a little