But having no level channel for the outgoing of the waters of one of the tenderest hearts that ever lived, those waters had sought to break a passage upwards. Herein his experience corresponded in a considerable degree to that of Robert; only Eric's more fastidious and more instructed nature bred a thousand difficulties which he would meet one by one, whereas Robert, less delicate and more robust, would break through all the oppositions of theological science falsely so called, and take the kingdom of heaven by force. But indeed the ruins of the ever falling temple of theology had accumulated far more heavily over Robert's well of life, than over that of Ericson: the obstructions to his faith were those that rolled from the disintegrating mountains of humanity, rather than the rubbish heaped upon it by the careless masons who take the quarry whence they hew the stones for the temple--built without hands eternal in the heavens. When Dr. Anderson entered, Ericson opened his eyes wide. The doctor approached, and taking his hand began to feel his pulse. Then first Ericson comprehended his visit. 'I can't,' he said, withdrawing his hand. 'I am not so ill as to need a doctor.' 'My dear sir,' said Dr. Anderson, courteously, 'there will be no occasion to put you to any pain.' 'Sir,' said Eric, 'I have no money.' The doctor laughed. 'And I have more than I know how to make a good use of.' 'I would rather be left alone,' persisted Ericson, turning his face away. 'Now, my dear sir,' said the doctor, with gentle decision, 'that is very wrong. With what face can you offer a kindness when your turn comes, if you won't accept one yourself?' Ericson held out his wrist. Dr. Anderson questioned, prescribed, and, having given directions, went home, to call again in the morning. And now Robert was somewhat in the position of the old woman who 'had so many children she didn't know what to do.' Dr. Anderson ordered nourishment for Ericson, and here was Shargar upon his hands as well! Shargar and he could share, to be sure, and exist: but for Ericson--? Not a word did Robert exchange with Shargar till he had gone to the druggist's and got the medicine for Ericson, who, after taking it, fell into a troubled sleep. Then, leaving the two doors open, Robert joined Shargar in his own room. There he made up a good fire, and they sat and dried themselves. 'Noo, Shargar,' said Robert at length, 'hoo cam ye here?' His question was too like one of his grandmother's to be pleasant to Shargar. 'Dinna speyk to me that gait, Robert, or I'll cut my throat,' he returned. 'Hoots! I maun ken a' aboot it,' insisted Robert, but with much modified and partly convicted tone.