with
sorrowful thoughts of Phillida and her sufferings, and with indignant
and mortifying thoughts of how she would inevitably be associated in
people's minds with mercenary quacks and disciples of a sham science.

He would go to see her at once. The defeat of Uncle Martin had given him
courage. He would turn the same battery on Phillida. No; not the same.
He could not ridicule her. She was never quite ridiculous. Her plane of
motive was so high that his banter would be a desecration. It was not
in his heart to add to the asperity of her martyrdom by any light words.
But perhaps he could find some way to bring her to a more reasonable
course.

It was distinctly out of his way to cross Tompkins Square again, but in
his present mood there was a satisfaction to him in taking a turn
through the square, which was associated in his mind with a time when
his dawning affection for Phillida was dimmed by no clouds of
separation. Excitement pushed him forward, and a fine figure he was as
he strode along with eager and elastic steps, his head erect and his
little cane balanced in his fingers. In the middle of the square his
meditation was cut short in a way most unwelcome in his present frame of
mind.

"It is Mr. Millard, isn't it?" he heard some one say, and, turning, he
saw before him Wilhelmina Schulenberg, not now seated helpless in the
chair he had given her, but hanging on the arm of her faithful Rudolph.

"How do you do, Miss Schulenberg?" said Millard, examining her with
curiosity.

"You see I am able to walk wunst again," she said. "It is to Miss
Callender and her prayers that I owe it already."

"But you are not quite strong," said Millard. "Do you get better?"

"Not so much now. It is my faith is weak. If I only could believe
already, it would all to me be possible, Mr. Millard. But it is
something to walk on my feet, isn't it, Mr. Millard?"

"Indeed it is, Miss Schulenberg. It must make your good brother glad."

Rudolph received this polite indirect compliment a little foolishly, but
appreciation from a fine gentleman did him good, and after Charley had
gone he was profuse in his praises of "Miss Callender's man," as he
called him.

XX.

DIVISIONS.

Millard went no farther through the square, but turned toward Tenth
street, and through that to Second Avenue, and so uptownward. But how
should he argue with Phillida? He had seen an indisputable example of
the virtue of her prayers. Though he could