"A proper pair of nurses!" said the doctor. "Why man, they would tear the infant Business to pieces between them! Unless one of them did as much for the other in time to prevent it."
"Never—unless Inclination took the place of Interest."
"Don't make any difference," said the doctor;—"Inclination always follows the lead of Interest.—Except in a few extraordinary specimens of human nature."
Mr. Linden turned towards the scattered groups of passengers, and so doing his eye caught the shining of that very star which was rising over Pattaquasset as he and Mignonette rode home two nights before. Only two nights!—For a minute everything else might have been at the antipodes—then Mr. Linden brought at least his eyes back to the deck of the Vulcan. "What sort of a motley have we here, doctor? Do you know many of them?"
"Yes," said the doctor slightly;—"the usual combinations of Interest and Inclination. I wonder if we are exceptions, Linden?"
"The usual combination is not, perhaps, just the best,—it is a nice matter for a man to judge in his own case how far the proportions are rectified."
"He can't do it. Human machinery can't do it. Can you measure the height of those waves while they dazzle your eyes with gold and purple as they do now?"
"Nay—but I can tell how much they do or do not throw me out of my right course."
"What course are you on now, Linden?" said the doctor with his old-fashioned assumption of carelessness, dismissing the subject.
"Now?" Mr. Linden repeated. "Do you mean in studies, travels, or conversation?"