The Dr. Harrison who had been up stairs was not at all the Dr. Harrison that met Faith in the hall and escorted her to the carriage. Grave, gentle, graceful, but especially grave, for some reason or other, he was; and not the less for that agreeable, she thought. Faith was in a sober mood herself; for she was about an undertaking she did not much like; and which Mr. Linden had liked even less. Faith pondered, as they drove swiftly along, what the particular objections had been which he had not chosen to tell her; and now and then thought a little uneasily of the coming interview with the doctor's patient, with Dr. Harrison himself for auditor and spectator. She did not like it; but she had honestly done what she thought right, and Mr. Linden had said _she_ was not wrong. And she was bound on the expedition, which she could not get rid of; so though these considerations did float over and over her mind they did not shake what was nevertheless a very happy peacefulness. Faith was glad the doctor was pretty well engaged with his horses; and let her own musings run upon the pleasant things of the morning, and of yesterday, with glances at the delightful new world of work and knowledge into which she had entered, or was entering; and happy resting down on the foundation for all joy so lately known to her. Whirled along on smooth going wheels, in that bright brisk day, little interrupted with talk, these thoughts and meditations took fair little flying passages through her head; chasing and succeeding each other, put in and put out by the lights and shadows, the hills and fields, sky and trees and wind-clouds, as the case might be, and mixing up with them all. Dr. Harrison had come for her this time in an easy pleasant-going curricle, drawn by beautiful animals, and who felt beautifully in that gay wind. They looked so, certainly, every motion from ears to tail telling of life and the enjoyment of it. "You are not afraid of anything, I know," said Dr. Harrison, one time when he had been obliged to hold them in with a good deal of decision;--"or I would have brought the old family trotter for you." "What makes you think so, Dr. Harrison?" "I have had proof of it," said he looking at her. Faith shook her head a little, and could have told him several things; but did not. "You are not afraid of these fellows?" She said no. "There is no pleasure in handling what gives you no trouble;--don't you think so?" Faith sought for illustrations of the subject in her own experience; did not find them. "Now look at those fellows," the doctor went on. "They are fit to fly out of their skins; but a little bit of steel in their mouths--and a good rein--and a strong hand at the end of it--and they are mine, and not their own," said he, giving them a powerful check at the same time which brought them on their haunches;--"and they know it. Now isn't there some pleasure in this?" "It is rather a man's pleasure," said Faith;--"isn't it?"