Paul Faber, Cerrah - Paul Faber, Surgeon

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[Illustration: PAUL FABER.]

PAUL FABER, SURGEON

BY GEORGE MACDONALD

1900

CONTENTS.

CHAP.

I. THE LANE II. THE MINISTER'S DOOR III. THE MANOR HOUSE IV. THE RECTORY V. THE ROAD TO OWLKIRK VI. THE COTTAGE VII. THE PULPIT VIII. THE MANOR HOUSE DINING-ROOM IX. THE RECTORY DRAWING-ROOM X. MR. DRAKE'S ARBOR XI. THE CHAMBER AT THE COTTAGE XII. THE MINISTER'S GARDEN XIII. THE HEATH AT NESTLEY XIV. THE GARDEN AT OWLKIRK XV. THE PARLOR AT OWLKIRK XVI. THE BUTCHER'S SHOP XVII. THE PARLOR AGAIN XVIII. THE PARK AT NESTLEY XIX. THE RECTORY XX. AT THE PIANO XXI. THE PASTOR'S STUDY XXII. TWO MINDS XXIII. THE MINISTER'S BEDROOM XXIV. JULIET'S CHAMBER XXV. OSTERFIELD PARK XXVI. THE SURGERY DOOR XXVII. THE GROANS OF THE INARTICULATE XXVIII. COW-LANE CHAPEL XXIX. THE DOCTOR'S HOUSE XXX. THE PONY-CARRIAGE XXXI. A CONSCIENCE XXXII. THE OLD HOUSE AT GLASTON XXXIII. PAUL FABER'S DRESSING-ROOM XXXIV. THE BOTTOMLESS POOL XXXV. A HEART XXXVI. TWO MORE MINDS XXXVII. THE DOCTOR'S STUDYXXXVIII. THE MIND OF JULIET XXXIX. ANOTHER MIND XL. A DESOLATION XLI. THE OLD GARDEN XLII. THE POTTERY XLIII. THE GATE-LODGE XLIV. THE CORNER OF THE BUTCHER'S SHOP XLV. HERE AND THERE XLVI. THE MINISTER'S STUDY XLVII. THE BLOWING OF THE WIND XLVIII. THE BORDER-LAND XLIX. EMPTY HOUSES L. FALLOW FIELDS LI. THE NEW OLD HOUSE LII. THE LEVEL OF THE LYTHE LIII. MY LADY'S CHAMBER LIV. NOWHERE AND EVERYWHERE

TO

W.C.T.

TUUM EST.

  Clear-windowed temple of the God of grace,
  From the loud wind to me a hiding-place!
  Thee gird broad lands with genial motions rife,
  But in thee dwells, high-throned, the Life of life
  Thy test no stagnant moat half-filled with mud,
  But living waters witnessing in flood!
  Thy priestess, beauty-clad, and gospel-shod,
  A fellow laborer in the earth with God!
  Good will art thou, and goodness all thy arts—
  Doves to their windows, and to thee fly hearts!
  Take of the corn in thy dear shelter grown,
  Which else the storm had all too rudely blown;
  When to a higher temple thou shalt mount,
  Thy earthly gifts in heavenly friends shall count;
  Let these first-fruits enter thy lofty door,
  And golden lie upon thy golden floor.

G.M.D.

PORTO FINO, December, 1878.

PAUL FABER.

CHAPTER I.

THE LANE.

The rector sat on the box of his carriage, driving his horses toward hischurch, the grand old abbey-church of Glaston. His wife was inside, andan old woman—he had stopped on the road to take her up—sat with herbasket on the foot-board behind. His coachman sat beside him; he nevertook the reins when his master was there. Mr. Bevis drove like agentleman, in an easy, informal, yet thoroughly business-like way. Hishorses were black—large, well-bred, and well-fed, but neither young norshowy, and the harness was just the least bit shabby. Indeed, the entireturnout, including his own hat and the coachman's, offered the beholderthat aspect of indifference to show, which, by the suggestion of anodding acquaintance w

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