One night—­it was the night of February 6-7, 1862—­I was at the Doctor’s tent.  Jake was sergeant of the camp guard and could not be with us.  The Doctor smoked and read, engaging in the conversation, however, at his pleasure.  Lydia seemed graver than usual.  I wondered if it could be because of Willis’s absence.  It seemed to me impossible that this dignified woman could entertain a passion for the sergeant, who, while of course a very manly fellow, and a thorough soldier in his way, surely was not on a level with Miss Khayme.  As for me, ah! well; I knew and felt keenly that until my peculiar mental phases should leave me never to return, love and marriage were impossible—­so the very truth was, and always had been, that I had sufficient strength to restrain any incipient desire, and prudence enough to avoid temptation.  My condition encouraged introspection.  I was almost constantly probing my own mind, and by mere strength of will, which I had long cultivated until—­I suppose there is no immodesty in saying it—­I could govern myself, I drew back from every obstacle which my judgment pronounced insurmountable.  The Doctor had been of the greatest help to me in this development of the will, and especially in that phase or exercise of it called self-control; one of his common sayings was, “He who resists the inevitable increases evil.”

Ever since when as a boy I had yielded to his friendly guidance, Dr. Khayme had evidently felt a sense of proprietorship in respect to me, and I cherished such relationship; yet there had been many times in our recent intercourse when I had feared him; so keen was the man’s insight.  The power that he exercised over me I submitted to gratefully; I felt that he was a man well fitted for counselling youth, and I had so many proofs of his good-will, even of his affection, that I trusted him fully in regard to myself; yet, with all this, I felt that his great knowledge, and especially his wonderful alertness of judgment, which amounted in many cases seemingly to prophetic power almost, were doubtful quantities in relation to the war.  I believed that he was admitted to high council; I had frequent glimpses of intimations—­seemingly unguarded on his part—­that he knew beforehand circumstances and projects not properly to be spoken of; but somehow, from a look, or a word, or a movement now and then, I had almost reached the opinion that Dr. Khayme was absolutely neutral between the contestants in the war of the rebellion.  He never showed anxiety.  The news of the Ball’s Bluff disaster, which touched so keenly the heart of the North, and especially of Massachusetts, gave him no distress, to judge from his impassive face and his manner; yet it is but just to repeat that he showed great interest in every event directly relating to the existence of slavery.  He commended the acts of General Butler in Virginia and General Fremont in Missouri, and hoped that the Southern leaders would impress all able-bodied slaves