murmur as of a distant sea, and he stood and absorbed the
glory of the metropolitan scene--such a scene as was never looked upon
in any age before our own decade--and it was to him but a fit
accompaniment to his passion for Phillida, which by its subjective
effect upon him had transformed all life and the universe itself. A
month before he had sat and stared a hard-coal fire out of countenance
in apprehension of falling in love with Phillida. Now he eagerly drank
in the glory of earth and air, and loved her without reserve and without
regret.

XI.

IN THE PARK.

Although love had at length come to Millard like an inundation sweeping
away the barriers of habit and preconception, he was quite aware that
Phillida Callender's was not a temperament to forget duty in favor of
inclination, and the strength of his desire to possess her served as a
restraint upon his action. He followed the habits of business
negotiation even in love-making; he put down his impatience and made his
approaches slowly that he might make sure of success. As a prudent
beginning to his courtship he called on Phillida at first but once a
week. She soon regained her wonted placidity of exterior, and Millard
found it difficult to divine how far his affection was reciprocated.

For himself, he kept up his round of post-Easter social engagements. It
would be time enough to lop these off if Phillida should require it when
his affairs with her should be upon a more secure footing. Phillida,
too, kept up a series of post-Easter engagements, but of another sort.
Besides the ordinary work of the mission, and the extraordinary work
attending the preparations for Fresh Air excursions for the invalid poor
which were to be carried on in the heats of summer, she went once a week
to the parlor Bible readings of Mrs. Frankland, which were, in fact,
eloquent addresses, and which served greatly to stimulate her zeal. Thus
these two lovers journeyed upon paths that had no convergence, even
while feeling themselves drawn irresistibly toward each other.

As April wore into May, Millard ventured on more frequent attentions,
and from day to day meditated how he might light on an opportunity to
tell her what he felt and wished. But at her house he was always held in
check by remembering the crash of an overturned chair at the time of his
first call, and he could not speak very confidential words with no other
screen than those thin sliding doors. When on two occ