half-sweet remembrances. As to what occurred the ensuing hour, her ideas were very vague. Nothing was clear, except Ponsonby's voice, cool, melodious, with the subtle magnetic charm in it characteristic of the born orator.

At last it was all over. The band broke forth into triumphant march. The people, elated or depressed, as the prospects of their respective candidates appeared to them to be affected, began to disperse. Esther was moving down the aisle, when there was a light touch on her arm. Turning, she confronted Ponsonby, his manner charmingly deferential.

"No, thanks, Petersham," he said to the fussy chairman who was about to present him. "Mrs. Briarley and I need no introduction. She and I were school

mates and and very good friends!"

He couldn't help stammering a little over the latter part of the sentence. And Esther? What will a proud woman do under like circumstances, but nerve herself to be calm and sweetly gracious? But the note that Ponsonby dexterously contrived to slip into her hand during his gay chat, aroused an inward agitation, and it was with feverish eagerness that she hurried home with her husband, answering by monosyllables his rattling fire of remarks.

"Hey, Esther! So you see Ponsonby did not forget old friends! I like that about him. Why, the other women looked jealous enough to bite you! By George! I wish I were able to dress you out in satins and velvets, and I'll warrant you would hold your own with the best of them. But cheer up! I think things will soon look brighter for us!

Poor Briarley was always hoping that! To Esther, impatient to read her note, never had the distance to the cottage seemed so long. When they reached it, When they reached it, they found the children asleep. Martha Allen greeted them with a smile and a yawn.

"No, I can't stay all night," she said in response to the invitation. "I've got bread sponge set."

Martha's plump face dimpled at the joke, but she said with spinster-like severity, "Behave yourself, Roger, or I'll box your ears! I've done it before, sir !"

"When I hooked' the saucer-pie from your dinner-basket? See how sober Esther looks at our bringing back these tender reminiscences of our lost youth!"

"Esther's tired, that's what's the matter," Miss Martha remarked, as she tied on her worsted 'fascinator,' over her wintry curls. "She has ben ironin' today an' then you had to drag her off to a rousin' rally-meetin'! Go to bed, Esther, jest as soon's you can! I'll send this good-for-nothin' husband o' your'n home when we git to my gate! He sha'n't spend no time palaverin'!"

The door shut behind them; their voices rang out down the street - Briarley's joking and Miss Martha's remonstrating, till they grew fainter and fainter and were silenced. Another time Esther would have enjoyed it; just now it seemed trivial-inane! She was glad to be left in peace to read the slip of paper she clutched so tightly in her hand.

It was written with a frankness that might have been dangerous had it been addressed to another woman, but Ponsonby knew that Esther was to be trusted!

"Dear Esther: -For you were and always shall be 'dear' to me, even though base treachery separated us in years gone by. To-day you are married and happy, while I-well, little is left for me aside from the struggle for political position. If I succeed, it shall be to your advantage and that of your husband. I know I may rely upon you for speaking in my behalf. I dare write no more. I might say that which I have no longer the privilege of saying.

me

Always R. P."

"He cares for me yet - he cares for yet!" Esther whispered almost hoarsely to herself. "And I might have been his wife been his wife his wife! Rich, happy, high in social position, while now”the sentence was left unfinished, as her glance fell bitterly around the little dreary

room.

It looked its best, for lamplight has a happy fashion of brightening dinginess, while it is not strong enough to bring out blemishes. But Esther knew that the Japanese fans on the walls covered

paper discolored by a leaky roof; the home-made curtains concealed darned places in the carpet, and they too were looped back at just the right angle to hide worn places in their folds.

And she might have had luxuries! Oh, the bitterness of unavailing regret ! It was with a little shudder of repugnance that she heard her husband's returning footsteps.

"Why!" he cheerily exclaimed. "You haven't taken off your wraps yet? Room cold? No wonder! for the fire is almost out. Touch the damper with your toe, Esther, and I'll get some coal. I don't know what the matter is, but somehow I feel chilled to the marrow. Those sheets I slept in at the hotel last night were damp!"

Another time, doubtless, Esther would have been filled with wifely solicitude, but just now she sat there in silence, grimly hugging her aching heart, while Roger bustled about, poking, shaking, filling the little parlor-stove, until presently every one of its mica sides gleamed with spurts of green and blue gases.

Still Briarley did not seem to get warmed, though, perceiving his wife's moody face, he paused in the midst of shivering, to say tenderly, "What's the matter, Essie? You look like a little white ghost!"

"I feel like one! shortly.

"You work too hard, as Martha says! But you won't have to much longer, I guess. I wasn't going to tell you until I knew that it was a sure thing, but now that you seem to need a little cheering I'll give you a hint that I am at last on the track of something that will better our fortunes. It's a paper out West-lively, clean sheet owned by solid men, who want a managing editor. I think that I have struck something this time!"

"There's no use hoping that!" said his wife, speaking in a dreary monotone. "We'll always have to drudge along this way!"

Something in her white, strained face sent a remorseful pang into her husband's heart. He put his arm around her. "Don't give up, dear, we'll pull through somehow ! Even if I haven't been able to make much money, I have at least kept

my name clean, so that my children need not be ashamed!

The children! She had forgotten them! Back swelled the purifying flood of mother-love. She rose from her chair saying gently, "Forgive me, Roger! I did not mean to speak harshly. I-I think I feel a little 'blue' and tired."

"The best thing you can do is to rest, dear. I don't feel prime, myself. It's the weather, I guess, a good sleep'll set me up all right."

But he was mistaken. He tossed about restlessly all the long night, now shivering with cold or burning with heat, and, when morning came he arose unrefreshed.

There was a cold, drizzling, autumnal rain, and Esther, by this time somewhat alarmed at his evident illness, begged him to remain at home. But he laughed at her fears, as, haggard and heavy-eyed, he sat down to sip his coffee.

"Can't say, my dear, but what I would enjoy being coddled by you and Beth, but business before pleasure! I've been away two days, you know, and I shall have to go down to see whether the officeboy and the devil-excuse me! you know I mean my chief factotum, Pat Maloney!

haven't made a pie of everything! This issue of my paper is to be an important one, for, I suppose that I have got to come out on one side or the other. I want a little further talk with Ponsonby. There are some things about his speech that I didn't just take in. They were glittering, but evasive."

"You won't say anything against him?" and Esther's face was a little flushed as she stooped to button Beth's shoes.

'Certainly not, unless I am obliged to. I like the man. He was clever and friendly to us last night, but it's principle I have to think of not personal regard."

The day passed gloomily. The rain beat its dreary monotone against the window-pane. The far-away hills were wrapped in gray mists, and the yard and garden showed a watery expanse scattered with fallen leaves and faded flower-stalks. In the latter part of the afternoon, how ever, a mad, frolicsome wind came out of the west, sweeping away the dull gray clouds and making room for a sky of amethyst, gold, and pale sea-green. Away

fluttered the few leaves remaining on the tall maples, like a fleet of golden argosies down into the watery road. The sun went down in regal splendor and the glory of the sky changed into rich purple from which the stars crept out one by one.

Esther, like most nervous people, was keenly susceptible to the changes of the weather, and the clearing of the atmosphere dispelled in some degree her moody musings. She prepared the supper with extra care, hoping that her husband would enjoy it after his scanty morning repast. But Briarley was late in coming, and when he did come he was accompanied by Irish Pat, who said anxiously, "The boss is rale sick, mum, an' as he was barely able to sthand, I thought I'd come wid him. Shall I be afther helpin' ye's to bed wid him or go for the docther?"

"Go for the doctor at once, Pat, that's a good fellow!" said Briarley in a husky voice, as he flung himself on the couch. "Don't worry, Essie!" to his wife, whose wild, frightened eyes were trying to read in his face the danger that menaced him. "Don't worry! It's only a hard cold with a bit of fever. And I've had a hard, perplexing day!" with a groan that ended in a choking cough.

"I say, Essie," he continued, when he regained his voice. "I have been grossly insulted to-day! What do those fellows take me for!" and he pounded the pillows wrathfully. "Do they think because I am only a poor country editor that I am a rascal and a fool! What do you suppose, Essie, Ponsonby had the audacity he and his managers to come into my office this afternoon, and, after beating about the bush, to try to bribe me yes, bribe me! They want the support of the Banner, it seems. God knows I've done my best to make it a clean, honest sheet. I never had the vanity to suppose it a very important organ, but it is said that the farmers and mechanics look to it for guidance in forming their political opinions. Ponsonby wants their votes. He's no friend to the working man. He wants to play the friend of the poor, and get me to do his trumpeting. But the idea of bribing me-me! Offered me the certainty of a good lucrative position on one of the

New York papers if I'd put a favorable editorial' in my next issue. Humph!” grimly," I've penned an 'editorial' for him this afternoon that'll make him squirm! When my subscribers read it, I guess they won't complain that I'm sitting on the fence any longer! No, Ponsonby didn't make the offer to me direct. He only came in and talked in his smooth way. But one of his satellites lingered behind and told me what he'd been bidden to. I'd have kicked him downstairs if I hadn't been too sick and weak. But I want Ponsonby to know how mad I am! You'll write and tell him, won't you, if I'm not able to—if I should die, I mean,”

and he looked at her half deliriously. "Die? Oh, Roger! do not talk so! and she pressed her quivering lips against his flushed cheeks. "Forgive me for neglecting you, forgive me-oh, for everything!"

66

Nonsense, Esther, you didn't neglect me last night! I'm no baby to be fussed over. But I do feel pretty sick now!"

The week that followed-can Esther Briarley ever forget it? Well was it that she had so much to do, or else she might have gone crazy with suspense. Worst of all were the quiet hours when her husband lay in a dull stupor, and she watching beside him, had time to recall her discontent and uncurbed longings! Her remorse was as sincere as it was poig

nant.

Her love for Ponsonby was like a wan ghost of her girlhood beside the warm, tender affection she now felt toward the father of her children.

As time wore away, the doctor's/face grew more grave. Briarley had worked hard, and though few knew it, had worried much. Over-exertion, anxiety, and disappointment had gradually told on his once strong constitution. But even in his pain, he could not forget his righteous anger. "I'm poor and unsuccessful! " he would exclaim. "I have failed in many things, but oh, I'm not so low as to accept a bribe! How dared theyhow dared they!" Over and over he repeated the words, tossing his arms in feverish strength that left him weak as a babe. "Is the Banner out this week, Esther?" he would cry. "Will you look at the proof and see that it is all right?

I want people to know that even if I am on the losing side, I will have nothing to do with dishonest men!" Then as the disease wore him away like the flame of a lamp that burns all its oil, till nothing but a flickering taper is left, he murmured, “I'm afraid, Esther, that I shall never be able to write that letter to Ponsonby! And I want him to know that I regard his offer as an insult. You write it, that's a good girl." And Esther wrote with trembling fingers the words he dictated and her own heart indorsed :

Then she added, saying on her own

account :

46

it all! Alas! her punishment was greater than she could bear! Briarley lay so motionless, his breath was so feeble — was he dying? At least, he was not suffer

Ponsonby, when he received it, gnawed the ends of his silken moustache, and said, with a sarcastic smile, " Briarley is a pepper-pot, and his wife-well, I suppose it's natural for a woman to feel spiteful when she realizes that she's missed

the mark!"

The writing of the note seemed to have a soothing effect on Roger. He turned his face to the wall and slept.

The evening hours wore away one by one. The uplifted curtain revealed a clear, starlit night. Again there were political demonstrations going on throughout the town. The beating of drums, the shrill piping of fifes, mingled with the faraway strains of the band, fell upon the watcher's ear. Occasionally a distant hurrah was heard. There was also a torchlight procession, and the twinkling lanterns could be seen along the streets like an endless chain of fireflies. Nearer and nearer they came, and larger they grew, until the long line wound up the hill and through the street outside the Briarley cottage. Louder beat the drums, and more triumphant was the swell of the band. The yellow lights shone in at the windows one by one, as the procession filed by with steady tread. Esther, from her seat at the bedside, gazed out as in a dream, when sudddenly, there flashed before her eyes, a broad white placard, and on it in large letters, easily

child into a dreamless slumber. She

would not be so selfish as to disturb him,

even for one last kiss of farewell. She knelt beside the bed, laid her tear-stained cheek on Roger's hand thrown outside the coverlet. Everything seemed passing away-love, life, consciousness "Have pity, oh, God!" she gasped, and knew no more.

even.

The morning sun streamed in at the window, making the hoar-frost on the ledge outside gleam like a bar of silver and diamonds. It touched with loving, rosy light the snowy petals of the primroses on the stand. The flowers were the first thing that Esther saw when she opened her eyes and found herself lying on the lounge. Suddenly, with a cruel wrench of pain, there came back to her memory of the past. "Roger?" she whispered. "He is is dead!" and strove to rise.

"Dead? No, he isn't! Nor is he likely to be!" exclaimed Martha Allen, hurrying to her side. You're the one we've been worried about! What ever possessed you to go off into that long faint! Tuckered out, wasn't ye? I told ye ye couldn't stand it settin' up so. When I found ye, you was as cold as a clod of the valley; an' you are as weak as a new-born babe now. There, there, child! Don't look at me so with those great eyes! Roger is all right, I tell ye.