imprisonment with great patience, for his life on one of the most
secluded farms of the region, surrounded by his wife's kinsfolk, who
were all landsmen, could hardly be called anything else. The doctor
had once made a voyage to Fayal and from thence to England in a
sailing-vessel, having been somewhat delicate in health in his younger
days, and this made him a more intelligent listener to the captain's
stories than was often available.

Dr. Leslie had brought his case of medicines from mere force of habit,
but by way of special prescription he had taken also a generous
handful of his best cigars, and wrapped them somewhat clumsily in one
of the large sheets of letter-paper which lay on his study table near
by. Also he had stopped before the old sideboard in the carefully
darkened dining-room, and taken a bottle of wine from one of its
cupboards. "This will do him more good than anything, poor old
fellow," he told himself, with a sudden warmth in his own heart and a
feeling of grateful pleasure because he had thought of doing the
kindness.

Marilla called eagerly from the kitchen window to ask where he was
going, putting her hand out hastily to part the morning-glory vines,
which had climbed their strings and twisted their stems together until
they shut out the world from their planter's sight. But the doctor
only answered that he should be back at dinner time, and settled
himself comfortably in his carriage, smiling as he thought of
Marilla's displeasure. She seldom allowed a secret to escape her, if
she were once fairly on the scent of it, though she grumbled now, and
told herself that she only cared to know for the sake of the people
who might come, or to provide against the accident of his being among
the missing in case of sudden need. She found life more interesting