But when he read the later and
shorter letters again and again in the vain hope of finding something
in their wording which should explain the vague unhappiness which had
come to him as he had read them first, he began to feel troubled and
dismayed. There was something which Nan had not explained; something
was going wrong. He was sure that if it were anything he could set
right, that she would have told him. She had always done so; but it
became evident through the strange sympathy which made him conscious
of the mood of others that she was bent upon fighting her way alone.
It was a matter of surprise, and almost of dismay to him early one
morning, when he received a brief note from her which told him only
that she should be at home late that afternoon. It seemed to the wise
old doctor a day of most distressing uncertainty. He tried to make up
his mind to accept with true philosophy whatever decision she was
bringing him. "Nan is a good girl," he told himself over and over
again; "she will try to do right." But she was so young and so
generous, and whether she had been implored to break the old ties of
home life and affection for her aunt's sake, or whether it was a newer
and stronger influence still which had prevailed, waited for
explanation. Alas, as was written once, it is often the higher nature
that yields, because it is the most generous. The doctor knew well
enough the young girl's character. He knew what promises of growth and
uncommon achievement were all ready to unfold themselves,--for what
great uses she was made.
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