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 mortuae quidem credendum est,” said Mr. Gridley.  “You wouldn’t trust a woman even if she was dead, hey, Nurse?”

“Not till she was buried, ‘n’ the grass growin’ a foot high over her,” said Nurse Byloe, “unless I’d know’d her sence she was a baby.  I’ve know’d this one sence she was two or three year old; but this gal ain’t Myrtle Hazard no longer,—­she’s bewitched into somethin’ different.  I’ll tell ye what, Mr. Gridley; you get old Dr. Hurlbut to come and see her once a day for a week, and get the young doctor to stay away.  I’ll resk it.  She ’ll have some dreadful tantrums at fust, but she’ll come to it in two or three, days.”

Master Byles Gridley groaned in spirit.  He had come to this village to end his days in peace, and here he was just going to make a martyr of himself for the sake of a young person to whom he was under no obligation, except that he had saved her from the consequences of her own foolish act, at the expense of a great overturn of all his domestic habits.  There was no help for it.  The nurse was right, and he must perform the disagreeable duty of letting the Doctor know that he was getting into a track which might very probably lead to mischief, and that he must back out as fast as he could.