The Pastor was very near feeling a little hurt. How could the
Doctor suppose that his own Rebecca, whose heart was as an open
book to him, could or would conceal from her father any sorrow of
such a nature! And, besides--! Rebecca was really not one of the
girls whose heads were full of romantic dreams of love. And as she
was never away from his side, how could she--? "No, no, my dear
Doctor! That diagnosis does you little credit!" the Pastor
concluded, with a tranquil smile.

"Well, well, there's no harm done!" said the old Doctor, and wrote
a prescription which was at least innocuous. He knew of no simples
to cure love-sorrows; but in his heart of hearts he held to his
diagnosis.

The visit of the Doctor had frightened Rebecca. She now kept still
stricter watch upon herself, and redoubled her exertions to seem as
before. For no one must suspect what had happened: that a young
man, an utter stranger, had held her in his arms and kissed her--
over and over again!

As often as she realized this the blood rushed to her cheeks. She
washed herself ten times in the day, yet it seemed she could never
be clean.

For what was it that had happened? Was it of the last extremity of
shame? Was she now any better than the many wretched girls whose
errors she had shuddered to think of, and had never been able to
understand? Ah, if there were only any one she could question! If
she could only unburden her mind of all the doubt and uncertainty
that tortured her; learn clearly what she had done; find out if she