The great, abiding difficulties of her case--her want of simple, confiding trust in her physician, and her constant, anxious attention to her own internal sensations, were far enough from being overcome. She was, in short, very nearly where she was ten years before, except that she was in circumstances rather more difficult to be reached, and had become rather more sceptical about medicine. What should now be done? Must the case be abandoned? Or was there some other way, some _new_ way, by means, of which it could be reached? I was not quite willing to give her up as irrecoverable, and yet I saw nothing remaining which I could do. I revolved the thing in my mind, by night and by day. At last a plan struck me which I verily believed would succeed. A few miles distant was a young physician, just from the schools, who vainly, though naturally, supposed he knew almost every thing which was known, and who wanted business. As he had nothing to lose, even if he were to fail in a hundred trials, but every thing to gain could he effect one very remarkable cure, I proposed to the family to employ him. I knew well he would have one or two advantages over his older and more experienced brethren. He would not at once place himself on the same platform with his patient and the friends, by answering their numerous questions; and for this plain and simple reason: In the first place, that he _could_ not, and very probably knew his own weakness; secondly, he would have more of that blind faith in medicine which inspires the ignorant with confidence. But there was another thought beyond all this, a wheel within a wheel. The young physician might succeed better than I, in drawing her thoughts, and even her affections, away from herself; for he was a single man, and the patient, though sick, not destitute of charms, especially of that more tangible charm which, to _indigent_ young men, and especially young _medical_ men, so often eclipses all others. She, on her part, as I well knew, was not wholly resigned to the world of single blessedness, though her long-continued ill health had almost unfitted her for any thing else. It only required a little _management_ to bring about the desired result. Dr. Juvenis was soon employed; and, though he did not always reply to her questions, which were numerous, and often wholly irrelevant, yet according to my own secret anticipations, he gradually raised her hopes in another direction, and hence drew her attention in no small degree from herself. His reserve, too, served but to inspire her with confidence in his great wisdom. There was something deep beyond the exterior, she always thought, which did not come out to the full, vulgar gaze. The final result was a strong attachment on her part, which, though not reciprocated by him in a direct manner, was not by any means repelled. The virtues of the medicines were no longer discussed or doubted; and it was obvious to all that she was beginning to mend.