It was hard to wait and to lack assurance, but while the hours when he had the ideal and the dream seemed to make him certain, he had only to go back to Miss Prince’s to become doubtful and miserable again.  The world did not consent to second his haste, and the persons most concerned in his affairs were stupidly slow at understanding the true state of them.  While every day made the prize look more desirable, every day seemed to put another barrier between himself and Nan; and when she spoke of her visit’s end it was amazing to him that she should not understand his misery.  He wondered at himself more and more because he seemed to have the power of behaving much as usual when he was with his friends; it seemed impossible that he could always go on without betraying his thoughts.  There was no question of any final opposition to his suit, it seemed to him; he could not be more sure than he was already of Miss Prince’s willingness to let him plead his cause with her niece, so many vexed questions would be pleasantly answered; and he ventured to hope that the girl herself would be glad to spend her life in dear old Dunport, where her father’s people had been honored for so many years.  The good Dr. Leslie must be fast growing old, and, though he would miss his adopted child, it was reasonable that he should be glad to see her happily anchored in a home of her own, before he died.  If Nan were friendless and penniless it would make no difference; but nevertheless, for her sake, it was good to remember that some one had said that Dr. Leslie, unlike most physicians, was a man of fortune.  And nothing remained but to win an affection which should match his own, and this impatient suitor walked and drove and spent the fleeting hours in waiting for a chance to show himself in the lists of love.  It seemed years instead of weeks at last, and yet as if he had only been truly alive and free since love had made him captive.  He could not fasten himself down to his work without great difficulty, though he built many a castle in Spain with his imagined wealth, and laid deep plans of study and acquirement which should be made evident as time went on.

All things seemed within his reach in these first days of his enlightenment:  it had been like the rising of the sun which showed him a new world of which he was lawful master, but the minor events of his blissful existence began to conspire against him in a provoking way, and presently it was sadly forced upon his understanding that Anna Prince was either unconscious or disdainful of his affection.  It could hardly be the latter, for she was always friendly and hospitable, and took his courtesies in such an unsuspecting and grateful way.  There was something so self-reliant about her and so independent of any one’s protection, that this was the most discouraging thing of all, for his own instinct was that of standing between her and all harm,—­of making himself responsible for her shelter and happiness.  She