ing itself in a struggle to be exactly
sincere. "If I were to take pay for praying for a person, I'd be no
better than Simon, who tried to buy the gift of the Holy Ghost from
Saint Paul. I couldn't bring myself to take money."

"And if you did, my dear, it would mortify your family, who have a right
to be proud, and then there is Mr. Millard, who, I suppose, would feel
that it would be a lasting disgrace." These words were spoken in a
relaxed and indifferent tone, as though it was an accidental commonplace
of the subject that Mrs. Hilbrough was settling.

Phillida said nothing. Here she was face to face with the old agony. If
her faith-healing were only a matter of her own suffering she need not
hesitate; she would take the cross with all her heart. But Mrs.
Hilbrough's words reminded her again that her sense of duty forced her
to bind Charley Millard for the torture. A duty so rude to her feelings
as the half-publicity of it made faith-healing, ought to be a duty
beyond question, but here was the obligation she owed her lover running
adverse to her higher aspirations. The questions for decision became
complex, and she wavered.

"Your first duty is to him, of course," continued Mrs. Hilbrough, as she
rose from the table, but still in an indifferent tone, as though what
she said were a principle admitted beforehand. This arrow, she knew,
went straight to the weakest point in Phillida's defense. But divining
that her words gave pain, she changed the subject, and they talked again
on indifferent matters as they passed out of the room together. But when
Phillida began her preparations for leaving, Mrs. Hilbrough ventured a
practical suggestion.

"I suppose you'll forgive an old friend for advising you, Phillida dear,
but you and Mr. Millard ought to get married pretty soon. I don't
believe in long courtships. Mr. Millard is an admirable person, and
you'll make a noble wife."

"We have long intended to have the wedding next spring. But as to my
making a noble wife, I am not sure about that," returned Phillida. "I am
engaged with my work, and I shall be more and more talked about in a way
that will give Charley a great deal of suffering. It's a pity--"

She was going to say that it was a pity that Charley had not chosen some
one who would not be a source of humiliation to him, but she could not
complete the sentence. The vision of Millard married to another was too
much even for her self-sacrifice. After a moment's paus