Nan saw the familiar old horse and carriage waiting behind the station, and did not fail to notice that the doctor had driven to meet her himself.  He almost always did, but her very anxiety to see him again had made her doubtful.  The train had hardly stopped before she was standing on the platform and had hastily dropped her checks into the hand of the nearest idle boy, who looked at them doubtfully, as if he hardly dared to hope that he had been mistaken for the hackman.  She came quickly to the side of the carriage; the doctor could not look at her, for the horse had made believe that some excitement was necessary, and was making it difficult for the welcome passenger to put her foot on the step.  It was all over in a minute.  Nan sprang to the doctor’s side and away they went down the road.  He had caught a glimpse of her shining eyes and eager face as she had hurried toward him, and had said, “Well done!” in a most cheerful and every-day fashion, and then for a minute there was silence.

“Oh, it is so good to get home,” said the girl, and her companion turned toward her; he could not wait to hear her story.

“Yes,” said Nan, “it is just as well to tell you now.  Do you remember you used to say to me when I was a little girl, ’If you know your duty, don’t mind the best of reasons for not doing it’?” And the doctor nodded.  “I never thought that this reason would come to me for not being a doctor,” she went on, “and at first I was afraid I should be conquered, though it was myself who fought myself.  But it came to me clearer than ever after a while.  I think I could have been fonder of some one than most people are of those whom they marry, but the more I cared for him the less I could give him only part of myself; I knew that was not right.  Now that I can look back at it all I am so glad to have had those days; I shall work better all my life for having been able to make myself so perfectly sure that I know my way.”

The unconsidered factor had asserted itself in the doctor’s favor.  He gave the reins to Nan and leaned back in the carriage, but as she bent forward to speak to a friend whom they passed she did not see the look that he gave her.

“I am sure you knew what was right,” he said, hastily.  “God bless you, dear child!”

Was this little Nan, who had been his play-thing? this brave young creature, to whose glorious future all his heart and hopes went out.  In his evening it was her morning, and he prayed that God’s angels should comfort and strengthen her and help her to carry the burden of the day.  It is only those who can do nothing who find nothing to do, and Nan was no idler; she had come to her work as Christ came to his, not to be ministered unto but to minister.

The months went by swiftly, and through hard work and much study, and many sights of pain and sorrow, this young student of the business of healing made her way to the day when some of her companions announced with melancholy truth that they had finished their studies.  They were pretty sure to be accused of having had no right to begin them, or to take such trusts and responsibilities into their hands.  But Nan and many of her friends had gladly climbed the hill so far, and with every year’s ascent had been thankful for the wider horizon which was spread for their eyes to see.