Some not ungentlemanly
malady, not hereditary, not incurable, not requiring any obvious change
in habits of life. Dyspepsia would answer the purpose well enough: so
Mr. Murray Bradshaw picked up a medical book and read ten minutes or more
for that complaint. At the end of this time he was an accomplished
dyspeptic; for lawyers half learn a thing quicker than the members of any
other profession.

He presented himself with a somewhat forlorn countenance to Dr. Fordyce
Hurlbut, as suffering from some of the less formidable symptoms of that
affection. He got into a very interesting conversation with him,
especially about some nervous feelings which had accompanied his attack
of indigestion. Thence to nervous complaints in general. Thence to the
case of the young lady at The Poplars whom he was attending. The Doctor
talked with a certain reserve, as became his professional relations with
his patient; but it was plain enough that, if this kind of intercourse
went on much longer, it would be liable to end in some emotional
explosion or other, and there was no saying how it would at last turn
out.

Murray Bradshaw was afraid to meddle directly. He knew something more
about the history of Myrtle's adventure than any of his neighbors, and,
among other things, that it had given Mr. Byles Gridley a peculiar
interest in her, of which he could take advantage. He therefore artfully
hinted his fears to the old man, and left his hint to work itself out.

However suspicious Master Gridley was of him and his motives, he thought
it worth while to call up at The Poplars and inquire for himself of the
nurse what was this new relation growing up between the physician and his
young patient.

She imparted her opinion to him in a private conversation with great
freedom. "Sech doin's! sech doin's! The gal's jest as much bewitched as
ever any gal was sence them that was possessed in Scriptur'. And every
day it 's wus and wus. Ef that Doctor don't stop comin', she won't
breathe without his helpin' her to before long. And, Mr. Gridley, I
don't like to say so,--but I can't help thinkin' he's gettin' a little
bewitched too. I don't believe he means to take no kind of advantage of
her; but, Mr. Gridley, you've seen them millers fly round and round a
candle, and you know how it ginerally comes out. Men is men and gals is
gals. I would n't trust no man, not ef he was much under a hundred year
old,--and as for a gal--!"

"Mulieri ne