down altogether. The man
whose ruling purpose is crossed by a grand passion may say to himself,
like the shorn Samson, "I will go out as at other times before," for the
change that has come over him is subtle and not at once apparent to his
consciousness. Millard resolutely repressed his inclination to call on
Miss Callender, resolutely set himself to adhere to his old life as
though adherence had been a duty. But he ceased to be interested in the
decorations and amused by the articles of virtu in his apartment; he no
longer contemplated with pleasure the artistic effect of his rich
portieres and the soft tone of his translucent window-hangings. The
place seemed barren and lonely, and the life he led not much worth the
having after all.

But, like the brave man he was, he stuck to his resolution not to call
on Miss Callender, from a sort of blind loyalty to nothing in
particular. Perhaps a notion that a beau like himself would make a
ridiculous figure suing to such a saint as Phillida had something to do
with his firmness of purpose. But when, a month later, he started once
more for Avenue C, he became at length aware that he had not made any
headway whatever in conquering his passion, which like some wild
creature only grew the fiercer under restraint. In spite of himself he
looked about in hope of meeting Miss Callender in the street, and all
the way across the avenues he wondered whether he should encounter her
at his aunt's. But Phillida had taken precautions against this. She
remembered, this time, that the last Sunday in the month was his day for
visiting his aunt, and she went directly home from the mission,
disturbed in spite of herself by conflicting emotions.

Millard could not but respect her dignified avoidance of him, which he
felt to be in keeping with her character. He listened with such grace as
he could to Uncle Martin, whose pessimistic oration to-day chanced to be
on the general ignorance and uselessness of doctors. His complaints
about the medical faculty were uttered slowly and with long pauses
between the sentences. Doctors, according to Uncle Martin, only pretend
to know something, and use a lot of big words to fool people. "Now I
doctor myself. I know what does me good, and I take it, doctor or no
doctor." This was said with a you-don't-fool-me expression on his solemn
face. "W'y, one doctor'll tell you one thing, and another'll tell you
another. One says bathing's good for you, and another says