Dr. Bilks had no reason to suppose that obstacles were intentionally thrown in his way. Julia was always kind. As she had said herself, she did not dislike him; and without the warning she had received, she would have permitted events to take their natural course. Julia was herself. She practised no arts, stooped to no hypocrisy. What she felt she did not wholly conceal. As Dick Birch came no more to Pine Hill, as she hardly heard from him, she had come to look upon the doctor as the man of her choice, though a man deferred simply for prudential reasons. He was unexceptionable to her; and if the current of love had not begun to flow, it was only because it was dammed up in the parent fountain. Dick Birch was absent, but not forgotten; and she could not help comparing the characters and manners of the two men who loved her. She did not absolutely love either of them; for one seemed to be a check upon the other. Her strong mind asserted itself. Eugene now managed his own business; and it gave him sufficient occupation to save him from the pangs of _ennui_. About once a week he went to The Great Bell; but he spoke not of love to Mary Kingman, though his heart still longed to have all restraint removed. He saw her as often as he called, and she always blushed and smiled in his presence. Captain Kingman was still confined to the house, and hobbled on crutches every day from his room to the kitchen. He was feeble and helpless. The family had no means of support, and debt pressed heavily upon them. Eugene, as a pretence, paid Ross’s salary to Mrs. Kingman every month, which was sufficient to keep the family comfortable. The farm was mortgaged; and as no interest was paid, the creditor became importunate for his dues. He threatened to take possession. Mrs. Kingman told Eugene of this, with tears in her eyes; for the threat implied ruin to her. He paid the principal and the interest; indeed, he discharged every debt he could find against the Kingmans. Captain Kingman did nothing but moan and groan from morning to night. He was paying the penalty of his transgressions. He did not concern himself about family affairs. He had nothing to say about Ross or the murder; nothing about his debts; nothing about Mary. He was stupefied by his pains and his misfortunes. He had lost all interest in his family and his business. Years of dissipation had made him an imbecile. Mrs. Kingman told him nothing of what Eugene had done; and as far as possible, at his request, she kept it from Mary, whose sensitive nature was outraged by dependence.