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Lorsque le dc^ument est trop yrand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est film6 A partir de i'angle sup6rieur gauche, de gatiche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'Images n6cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 Hk turnkd suddenly, and kkft thk Room, Mr i M n H \ OVERRULED BY "PANSY" (MRS. G. R. ALDEN) ADTHOK OF "ESTER RIED," "HER ASSOCIATE MEMBERS," "WANTED," "MAKIKU FATE," ETC. ILLUSTRATED TORONTO: WILLIAM BRIGGS, WESLEY BUILDINGS. WONTREAL : C W. COATES. | HALIFAX : S. F. HUESTIS, 2039 ""Iir?. T'^fj *"*/'' °' *"* Parliament of Canada, In the year one thousand Agriculture * "*"«t.v-8even. by William Brioos, at the Department of CONTENTS. ni.vrTEn paok I. A STOIIMY EVKNINii 1 II. The J)ay'8 Stouy 14 III. "PooK Hannah" 26 IV. "Mak.jokik Edmonds" 39 V. Temptations 50 VI. Pooh Jack! 62 VII. A Chance to choose 75 VIII. Pivots 87 IX. "What IF I should— ?" 90 X. An Anniversakv Ill , XI. A Sekies of Bllndehs 122 XII. A Confidential Talk 133 XIII. " Theke ouout to be " — 144 XIV. June Visitoks 156 XV. Schemes 168 XVI. The Teacher taught 180 XVII. A Crisis 192 XVIII. Revelations 204 XIX. " I DON'T like It " . . 215 XX. Enteb Dk. Maxwell 227 iU IV CONTENTS. (IIAPTKIl PAOK XXI. Brotiieus Ixdeed 240 XXII. A IlAitVEST 262 XXIII. "It miuiit have been" 263 XXIV. The Unexpected 275 XXV. June Again 288 XXVI. Half the Stoky 300 XXVII. Oppohtunity 313 XXVIII. A CitiHis 325 XXIX. "FOK Me — iZ-ff^K-fcW" 336 OVERRULED CIIAPTIOll I. A STUUMV KVKNING. ESTELLE IJHAMLETT was in an unenviable frame ol mind. The flusii on her face was caused hy something more than the glow nf the firelight in her jjretty sitting-room, and there was a nervous tremor about her lips when they ceased speaking that betokened keen feeling of some sort and a vain effort at self-control. Life had not shown for her the rose-colored tints tl:at she had meant it should. There had been several months in which she had accustomed hei-self to looking forward to the time when she should become Mi's. Ralph Bramlett, as the beginning of a future which should be velvet-lined. She had borne that name for more than a year; and the unmistakable lines about her mouth, which had evidently Ikj- come habitual, showed only too plainly that more or less disappointment had fallen on her. Mr. Ralph liramlett was stretched at full length upon a comfortable couch, with down pillows at 1 (A'KKUULKD. luH lietul unci back, and tlinist under one cIIk^w. He was listening in gloomy silence to his wife's remarks, making as little response as the claims of deeencv would allow. Mis work at the otlice that day had been nerve trying to a degree that his wife did not and could not undei'stand, and her topics for convei'sation were not inspiriting. She had been tried by his silence, and did not improve in her selection. *' Nainiah was here this afternoon," she began again, after an irritating silence. "She spent half the afternoon going on about her attairs. 1 think it is simi)ly disgraceful, the way she is managing. She is the town talk already ; and if things con- tinue much longer as they are now, she will not Ik; received into respectable society. I don't believe you have saieing said. Von are hnried all day in that horrid oliice, and evenings yon spend on the conch hrooding over something which yon keep to yonr- self ; the consecpience is yon do not know what is going on in the world. If yon came in conta<'t with peoi)le, us I do, yon wonld nnderstand that it is time something was done. What do yon think of having persons like the (Jreens making yonr sister's lur.'.K^ a snhject for gossij) in thtt kitchen? Mrs. (Irccn told Lena that the hoys said Miss ilannali v.ent a-walking every night with Ja'/k 'raylt)r, and that he took her to con- certs and lei^tnres and everywhere!" '* If I wer^.'! von, I wonld not hold conferenees with my eook in regard to family aflaii-s (»r those of the neighhorhood. ' Mr. Hrandett s[)oke in his coldest, loftiest tone ; and it is perhaps not snrprising that he made the color deepen on his wife's cheeks, nor that her eyes glowed angrily. " That is jnst like yon, Ralph ; yon are as nn- reasonahle omit no opj remark insulting it is possible for a man to be, and tnnity to blame me. I consider that The idea that I spend my time OVERRULED. gossiping with the cook ! Lena asked me a civil question. At least slie intended it to be civil ; as things are going, I do not think she can be blamed f"" supposing that she had a right to ask when iviiss Hannah was to be married. She is a respect- able girl, and supposed, as a matter of course, that the outcome of such persistent attention was a wedding. But I should think you might be suffi- ciently well acquainted with your wife to have discovered that I do not gossip with anybody. Since you have decided that your wife cannot l^e trusted, perhaps it will comfort you to remember that Lena has been in my mother's family for a number of years, and has only what she considers the interests of the family at heart. I cross-ques- tioned her carefully, under the impression that I was doing my duty in trying to learn the extent to which gossip had made itself familiar with our name. I made the mistake of supposing that you would not only approve of my efforts, but woulc' exert your influence, if you have any, in helping to close the mouths of gossips before it is too late. I do not know what you think about all this, you have never condescended to enlighten me ; but it does not seem possible that you can approve of the way in which Hannah is conducting herself. It is true, as Mrs. Green says, that she is se^^n on the street with that odious Jack Taylor nearly every night of her life. Or, if they are not on the street, he is seated on the dooratep, or hanging ou A STORMY EVENING. 5 the gate, talking with her until a late hour. Yes- terday she actually went out riding with him, and was gone for hours. Mrs. Green, you may be sure, knows exactly how many horn's ; and, if she failed to overhear any of their remarks, can draw on her imagination, and make hei-self and others bfilieve that she did. I hope you enjoy putting your name at the mercy of a woman like her! Now, what I should like to know, is whether you approve of Hannah's conduct,, and mean to uphold her in it, as you seem to be doing." " I tell you I neither approve nor disapprove," growled her husband. '^ What I said was, that Hannah was old enough to attend to her own affaii-s, and ought to be allowed to do so. If she chooses to be a fool she has a perfect right to be one, so far as I am concerned, and I do not pro- pose to bother myself about it. I have otlier mat- ters to think of." " Oh ! it is all very well, Mr. Bramlett, for you to wrap youreelf in a mantle of dignity, and de- clare that you have other things to think about. Undoubtedly you have ; mattei*s of vast impor- tance, apparently, which al)sorb all 3-our time. I can tell you one thing about Avhich you larely think, and that is your wife's comfort. I spend my days alone, and might as well spend my even- ings in the same manner, for all the pleasure that I have in your society. If I had for a moment imagined what a difference in my life the marriage 6 OVEIinULEDv ceremony would make " — She stopped abruptly, her voice being choked with feeling, whether of grief or anger it might have been difficult to dete"- mine. Her husband remained persistently silent under this attack ; and after two or three minutes she began again, — "• Vou can neglect 3(mr wife, of course ; that is nobody's business but your own. I shall not i^o out on the streets and comi)lain of you, so your dignity is entirely safe there ; but I warn you tiiat Hannah is not being so thoughtful. Whether it is your business or not, the public will link your name with it, and you will find youreelf associated with an unsavory scandal l)efore you are a\\arc. You cannot separate youi-self fi-om your entire family. You are by no means so indifferent to what people say as j'ou occasionall}' like to pre- tend. I do not know another person who is so sensitive to public oi)inion as you, and when you open your eyes to the state of thing's about which I have warned you, do not blame me ; that is all I ask." ^^ Nonsense I" Mr. IJramlett arose to a sitting posture as he gave vent to this explosive word, flinging away the afghan which his wife had thrown over him when he lay down, and glaring at her out of angry eyes. "I wish you would not undertake this sort of scene, Estelle ; it was never to my taste, — besides, you d(jn't do it well. And 1 wish, moreover, that A STOtlMV EVE>fINO. you did not consider it your duty to retail to me the gossip of the cook and the washerwoman. I must honor your motives, of course, but I tell you once for all I consider it entirely uuneees- sary. IMy sister llainiah has conducted hei'self with entire i)r()priety for nearly thirty yeai-s, with- out the breatli of suspicion having attached itself to her name, and I have no fear but that she will continue to manage her affaii-s with wisdom if she is let alone. If you talked to iier this after- noon as you have Ijcen talking to me, there may be cause for anxiety ; there is no telling what a liramlett might l)e goaded to do. Why don't you learn, Kstelle, that you cannot help people by sticking thorns into them? Were there no letters f(>r me bv the late mail?" It was an unfortunate question in view of all that hivd passed. Mi's. Brandett controlled her inclination to bui-st into a passion of tears, and LTave vent to her feelingrs in words instead. "Oh, yes; there are letters of the usual sort. The bill for coal, for instauv^e ; I supposed that was settled last month. Your tailor's bill was presented for the third time, and that account .from Sewell's. He takes the trouble to state that it will not be convenient for him to wait longer for settlement. Since there is no danger of dis- grace to the family through Hannah, it at least looks as though there might be a possibility of it from another source. It is certainly anything 8 OVKinilTLKD. but agreeable to me to have the house flooded with tailors' bills, and matters of that kind ; if it were my dressmaker's bill, I should never hear the last of it. I cannot understand why it isn't important to be business-like about such matters, as well as with the affairs of Snyder, Snyder, and Co. Yet you are always pressing their claims upon me when I need any of your time. May I be allowed to ask why you do not attend to your own business occasionally?" She could not know how every word she ut- tered pierced the very soul of her husband like a keen knife cutting into living flesh : it would not have been possible for her to understand what tre- mendous self-control he was exercising, to main- tain the outward calm Avhicli in itself irritated her. He waited a moment before he replied. ''I am sorry my business-like habits have proved a cause of offenco to you. As to my own affairs, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be strictly metliodical. There is a serious ditti- cultv in the way. I have not vet learned how to pay bills without tangible aid. The simple fact is, that my last quarter's salary was entirely spent some weeks before it was due. Some of it, you may remember, went to pay that dress- mjiker's bill of which you boast. Mr. Sewell will find that he will be compelled to wait until I get ready to pay him ; and I shall take care that there shall be no bill hereafter t(j settle with him. A STORMY EVENING. 9 Ta truth, I am tempted to refuse to pay any of these feHows, because they sent the hills to the house instead of to my office. I had no intention of troubling you with matters of this kind." He seemed to realize, l)efore the sentence was com- pleted, that he had put some bitter stings into it, and to feel some sense of re<^ret. He tried to make his voice sound less cold and sarcastic. But mattei-s had gone (piite too far for him to thus easily atone. Estelle's eyes were flashing dan- gerously, and her voice was like steel. " Pray, do not take the trouble to try to put it courteously ; say, rather, the plain truth, that }'t)U had no intention of letting me know that you are unable to pay your honest debts. Tt is certainly a new experience to me. My father is poor, and has always been ; but I do not believe he ever owed a pei>5on for twenty-four horn's beyond the date of payment. It is prol)ably very unbusiness-like for me to wonder wluit you do with your money, but I confess I am curious. Your salarv is larger than my father ever had to depend upon ; yet he man- aged to feed and clothe and care for three daugh- tei-s, as well as himself and wife. If I might be allowed to suggest to such a business-like pereon, I should say it was quite time you began to keep your own books, instead of those of other people. I supposed it was Hannah who was threatening our respectability, but it seems I was mistaken." Mr. Bramlett sprang up, and began to pace back 10 OVKKUULED. and forth ; it was a way lio liad wlicii iimler strong excitement. *»Ilave a care, Estellc," lie said, and liis voice was low and constrained; "you may g() too far in your sarcasms even with me, who am bound in honor to endure them. It oujj;lit to he heneath you to make the insinuations that you have with regard to money, when you remend)er that I fur- nished this house in accordance with your judg- ment, not mine; and, ijideed, rented it in the fii'st place because your preference for it was so great, althouyh J told you at the time that I felt we could hardly aff(>rd it. If you Avill take the trouble to recall the circumstances, you will re- mendjer tliat there was no other house within our reach which in the least satisfied you." "That clause, 'within our reach,' is well added, Mr. Brandeti, and most important. Of coui'se I supposed that you knew Avhat you vere about ; and when you referred the decision as to choice of house to me, naturally I believed that those put at ni}^ disposal were' within our reach. Why should I not, in such a case, choose the best? As to fur- niture, when my tastes were consulted, I told the truth, of coui-se ; what else would you have had ? I suppose I an) not to be blamed because my tastes are so unfortunate as to prefer a fifty-dollar couch, for instance, to a twentv-doUar one. "The truth is," she continued, — and, having grown more angry with every word she had spoken, A STOIIMY EVENING. 11 Hhe now laid aside all effort at self-control, and faced her hnsband with a look which said more than her words, — **• the trnth is, yon tind ^oni'self hi an embarrassing position. Von have chosen to keep yonr hnsiness mattei's an entire secret from me, and have spent all your money, in Avhat way you alone know ; but now that it is gone, and you awaken to the fact that you have nothing with which to pay honest debts, you choose to turn upon me, and lay the blame on my good taste in selecting h(mse-fnrnishings. Vou have taken pains to inform me what you considered beneath me ; pray, what do you think of such conduct as that?" He had taken time to think, during that long sentence ; in truth, he had given her words little attention, but was engaged in wondering why he had allowed himself to be betrayed into saying some things that he had. "• Do let us get done with this distasteful talk." he said, with a wave of his hand, as though he would throw off all that was disagreeable. *' I wonder whv it is that I cannot be allowed to have peace in my own house? I have business cares and perplexities that you know nothing a])out ; and when I lock the ottice-door upon them, and come away for the ])urpose of getting a little rest, it seems hard that I must be placed in the witness-box, not only, but must have torture a})- plied to me. I meant no insinuations in what I 12 UVEUItL'LKD. I If said. I merely referred to tlis faet that the house had been furnished in accordance with your tastes, and took more money than we had supposed it would when we began. The strictest economy is necessary now, — has been necessary for some time ; and we are neither of us fond of economizing. If I have been close-mouthed about my affaii-s, it was simply because I did not consider it necessary to trouble you with them. But the plain, unvar- nished truth is that I am heavil}'' in debt, and have not a cent of money with which to meet my liabil- ities. As to where the money has gone, thus far, if you are fond of business to that extent, you will find the large drawer of the secretary emmmed full of accounts ; you are at liberty to study and figure on them to your heart's content. If I have made a mistake in trying to shield you, I will rectify it at once. I fancy you will have no diffi- culty in discovering where even such an enor- mous sum as fifteen hundred dollars a year has fled to, and I hope you will find peace and happi- ness in the occupation." He had not intended to close his sentence thus ; he had meant it to be conciliating. Feeling suddenly how impossible it was for him to control himself further, or endure more that evening, he turned suddenly and left the room, slamming the door after him ; not intentionally, but because his nerves had been so wrought upon as to leave him incapable of making gentle movements. He A STORMY EVENING. 18 crossed the hall, and passed into a small room which had been fitted up in a business-like manner for his exclusive use. Here he closed and locked the door, and even drew the small bolt just below the lock; then threw himself into the leather- covered armchair i! front of his desk, with the unpaid bills still in his hand. 14 OVEKKULED. CHAPTEK II. THE DAY S STOllY 1'^HUS uiicereinoniously left to hei-self, Estelle Hranilett bowed her head on the little read- ing-table near her, and cried some of the most liit- ter teai-s it had ever fallen to her lot to shed. Do her the justice to undei'stand that nothing about this miserable evening had been in the least iis she had planned. When the teal's had had tlieir way, she tried to go over the events of the last few houra, and make hei-self undei'stand how it had all happened. Why had she allowed hei'self to speak such words as she had to her husband? Sarcasm was one of her besetting sins ; she knew it well, — she had, indeed, been told it from childhood, — and no friend, not even the dearest, escaped her tongue when she was excited ; but to Ralph she had never before spoken as she had that evening. How came she to do so ? It had been a trying day from fii-st to last. Her husband had been more than usually preoccupied and silent all through the breakfast- hour, and had finally gone away without even re- membering to bid her good-by. This in itself had THE DAYS STOUY. 16 tried her more than he could have undei-stood ; l)ecause, being a woman, she lived on many of tlie small happenings which men like Ralph Hmmlett call trifles. Neither had her domestic machinery moved satisfactorily. Lena, the stout German girl who reigned in her kitchen, had been brought up by Mi's. Bramlett's mother, and was considered a treasure, that tlie mother had relinquished to her on her marriage, after tlie manner of mothera. Hut even a kitchen treasure may have its faults ; and a disposition to have her own way, especially when she knew it to lie the best way, was one of Lena's faults. She and her mistress had disagreed about an important matter connected with cook- ery, and Lena had quoted her mistress's mother in a way which could only be exasperating to the young housekeeper. So Estelle had insisted upon her way, to the detriment of the dinner ; and Ralph had found a little fault, and assured his wife that his mother could teach her many things. This experience is never soothing, and by dinner- time young Mi-s. Bramlett was in need of being soothed. The fii-st to disturb her afternoon peace had been her young sister Glyde. Now, Glyde was a favorite with almost everybody, and as a rule there was no one whom Mi-s. Bramlett liked better to see tripping up her side steps. But on this particular afternoon she innocently brought an element of discord. " I've had such a delicious present ! " she began, 16 OVERRULED. ius soon as she was comfortably seated. Cilyde's adjectives could, on o(!casion, be as startling as those of the average young lady. '"• I had to rush right over and tell you about it. I wanted to bring it with nie, but mother decided th;,t that would be silly." ''A present ! " echoed her sister. '- Why should you be having presents just now? It isn't your birthday; and it is too near the holidays for extras, and not near enough to count." " This one will * count,' I fancy. It is probably intended for my Christmas ; only, being the dear, thoughtful creature that he is. Uncle Anthony sent it on after the tii-st frost, so as to be ready for the cold. Can you guess what it is, Estelle ? " "I wjvs never skilful at guessing," Mi"s. Hram- lett said, a trifle coldly. 'J'he truth is, she found it impossible to speak other than coldly when Uncle Anthony was the subject of converssition. She could never forget that there had been a time when his chief interest in their family centred in her, and his special gifts were showered upon her. Although she knew perfectly well that her aljsence from home two years before had been the sole reason why Glyde was chosen as his compan- ion for a trip to New York, and that Glyde was in no wise to blame for the extravagant fondness which her nncle had shown for her ever since, Estelle could not help feeling aggrieved whenever she thought of it, and had sometimes spoken in THE DAY S STOUY a way to make a more suspicious person than Glyde feel that she was supposed in some dis- reputable way to have undermined her sister's place. But Clyde's busy, happy nature had no room in it for suspicion. She could not even l)e made to underatand that her sister was not pre- pared to rejoice with her over the especially ap- propriate gift that had come to her. Had not Uncle Anthony distinguished himself when Estelle was married? Was there a better piano in town than the one that he sent with his love and good wishes? Had any one been more delighted with the rich gift than (Hyde hei-self? What more reasonable than to suppose that Kstelle would siijire the pleasure that liad now come to her? This, if she had reasoned about it, would have been something like what she \vould have felt. Hut Glyde was too entirely aliove seltishness to have done any reasoning about it; and the voice was only gleeful in which she said : — " H you won't even try, I shall have to tell you. It is a fur cape. Isn't that particularly fortunate just at this time ? For you know my winter coat is growing too small, and poor father has had so many expenses lately that I could not endure the thought of hinting about a new one." " A fur cape I What kind of fur ? " . "'Seal," said Glyde, a trifle timidly. She had an instinctive feeling that possibly the quality of the gift might not seem sensible to her sister. til 18 OVER RU LED. ' r'i 111: 111 II i " Seal ! Do you mean real seal-skin ? " " Why, yes, of coui-se, Estelie ; Uncle Anthony never approves of imitations of any sort, you know." " I think you are too young to wear seal-skin," said Mi's. Bramlett, her voice as cold and unsym- pathetic as ice. But this had tempted Glyde to laugh. " Why, Fstelle I " she said, " you cannot mean that. Don't you rememher that they trim even little children's garments with seal ; and children wear seal caps and hoods. It must he mink fur of which you are thinking." " I am thinking of precisely what I said. It is to he presumed that I know quite as well as you what fui-s are worn. What I mean, of couree, is that I think rich fure of any sort are not in keeping with the position of a young girl like youi'self, who has nothing to match them. How- ever, if irnele Anthony chooses to load you down Avith inappropriate finciy, it is nothing to me." She would not have spoken quite so disagree- ably if the rich gift had been anything hut a seal cape. It chanced that the words represented her heart's desire for the winter. Only two days before, she had told her husband of scine new capes that were displayed at Harter and Beek- man's, real marvels of cheapness, considering their quality ; and he had assured her in an annoyed tone that even one-third the price she mentioned THT^. DAY S STORY. 19 waa entirely beyond his means, and that she must not think of new fura for this season at least. It struck her as hard that a young married woman should not have the sort of cape she chose. A husband who had never before l)een called upon to buy a wrap of any sort for her, ought to have lu'en ready to get the fii-st one without a murmur. However, she had struggled with this feeling and conquered it, and resolved to tell Ralph in the evening that he was not to worry about her wanting a fur cape ; her sack was almost as good as new, and quite nice enough for the winter. But it was certainly hard that l)efore she had had time to carry out this good intention, her young sister should come and flaunt an elegant neal cape l)ef()re her mind's eyes. Of coui-se it was elegant; Tucle Anthony never did half-way things. (Jlyde had regarded her sister with a puzzled ail-, and resolved to change the subject. Estelle was evidently not in the mood that afternoon for rejoicing with her over her fui-s. , . "Oh, I forgot; I have something of more im- portance to tell you ; Marjorie has ccilne. Vou do not seem a bit surprised ; I am afraid you have heard of it before, and I wanted to Iw, the first to give the news." " I have heard nothing about her, and thought nothing about her for weeks. What a child you are, Glyde ! Do you never mean to grow up ? " " It seems so delightful to have her back," said rw i!|l'! 20 OVERRULED. «M J I I 11 ll I I Glyde, ignoring the reproof ; " I have been happy all the morning over the thought of their house being open again. They c^nie last night; I haven't seen her yet, but I am on my way there this afternoon. Don't you want to get on your wraps and go with me ? It is real pleasant out of doors." *' Certainly not. I think I shall have sense enough to ctill with my husband when the proper time comes. I am not a school-girl to pounce down upon people as soon as they get in the house. Has Marjorie brought Mr. Maxwell with her?" " No," said Glyde wonderingly ; " at least I suppose not ; I hadn't thought of him. Why no, Estelle ; he could not be here at this time of year. He is a college professor, you know, and all the colleges are in session now." "I do not know what he is," said Mrs. Bram- lett ; " a gentleman of elegant leisure apparently. I am sure he spent one winter here, and then went abroad for I do not know how long; and Marjorie has spent the intervening time with him. I did not know but now that she had decided to come home, she was going to let him accom- pany her ; she seems to have him well under her control." Glyde's fair face was flushed, and her eyes had a reproachful look; she was sensitive to sarcasm when it was applied to her friends. THE day's story. 21 "I do not know what you mean, Estelle," she said gravely. " Because Marjorie and her mother chose to spend some of their time in the same town where Mr. Maxwell is teaching, that does not seem to me a reason for speaking almost slightingly of her. They have been travelling all summer, you know, and were absent a large part of the winter ; I suppose it was merely an accident that they made the same place their headquarters." " Some accidents are designed, my dear little innocent. But you need not flush as though I had insulted your idol. Marjorie having hope- lessly lost your respected brother-in-law, has set herself earnestly to the task of securing Mr. Max- well. Nothing is plainer than that; but I am sure I do not blame her. I suppose he is quite interest- ing to those who like his style. What surprises me is the length of time that it takes to accom- plish her designs. I expected an invitation to her wedding before this. You can give her my re- gards, and, if you feel disposed, ask if there is any- thing I can do to help her with her trousseau ; that may aid in bringing mattei's to a focus." She had laughed maliciously as she spoke, and realized that she was savinii: what would bi'iuff a still deeper flush to Glyde's face. In the mood she then was, she could not help rather liking to make people feel uncomfortable. The young sister cut sliort her call, and went away sorrowful. She could not understand why l'^■A\ 00 OVEnilULED. she so often found liev married sister in these moods. Perhaps it wouhl have ])een hard for Mrs. IJramlett herself to exphun them. Yet, as lias been hinted, life was in many respects a dis- appointment to her. After (ilyde's departure she sat and brooded for a while over some of her grievances. I*rominent among them loomed uj) the evening before. She had planned that Jlalph would come home in time to take her to a certain concert which she was sure they wouhl both enjoy. She had ordered dinner early with this scheme in view, and dressed hei-self with care ; and the hus- band had returned in time, but would have none of her planning. It was a chilly, disagi'eeable night, and slie ought to knoAv better than to think of ex})osing herself to H. Moreover, he was nnich too tired to dress and go out again ; he would not do it if Patti hen;elf were to sing. It had l)een more of a disappointment to Ids wife than he real- ized, but she had done her best to acconnnodate hei-self to his moods. Coming in from the dinner- table, she had drawn the curtains, and arranged the drop-light, and brou!o:ht her little reading-chair close to the couch on which her husband had thrown himself, and prepared to entertain him. Would he like to l)e read to ? She had a charm- ing new book that (Uyde had brought her; she had been saving it to enjoy with him. He replied with utmost coldness. Glyde's taste in books, he said, was not as a rule in accordance with his ; THK DAY S STOnV. 23 besides, it nearly always wearied him to hear other people read. He had been accustomed fi'om his babyhood, almost, to reading aloud himself. Well, then, would he read to her? No indeed he wouldn't; not to-night: couldn't she see that he was already hoai-se? He had been })awling telephone messages all day, all over creation. She might read to hei-self if she chose, and wel- come; he desired simply to be let alone. He had business matters to think about which would re- quire all the brain-power he possessed. It was not a pleasant prospect certainly. The wife had* been alone all day, and was not disposed to continue the loneliness through the long No- vember evening. Still, she had struggled with hei'self and been silent. Slie had opened tlie choice book, and read a few pages. Several times she had tried to beguile her husband into a show of interest. " Listen to this, lialph," she had said; "isn't it a quaint way of expressing the thought?" lint Ralph was in a hopeless frame of mind. He saw nothing either quaint or interest- ing in the quotations. What slie called pathetic he said was silly ; and a passage which she pro- nounced particularly fine, he said was common- place. When at last she closed the l)ook, and tried to interest him in what she called conversation, she fared no better. He answered her questions only in the briefest phrases, a single monosyllable y ■n 24 OVEUUULED. whenever possible, and finally distinctly intimated that he thought she was going to read her book, and leave him in peace. This had been the drop too much for her ; and she had risen in indignation, waiting only to in- form him that she might as well have been im- mured in a convent as to have married, and that if he was so fond of his own company, she would not longer intrude hers upon him. Then she had gone to her own room, and cried over the lost even- ing. He had not followed her, as earlier in their married life he would have done ; instead, he was even later than usual in coming to his room. Once there, he moved about on tiptoe, careful not to dis- turb his wife's supposed rest; and when at last stretched beside her, he gave vent to a sigh so heavy that it smote upon her wakeful ear, and made her almost ready to throw her arms about him and ask what troubled him. In truth, she often asked hei'self this anxious question. Kalpii Bramlett had been fitful enough in his unmarried days, but never quite like this. There were times when this wife of a year assured hei'self that had she imagined he could become the silent, preoccu- pied, indifferent husband that he was, she would not have married him. But this thought was in- variably followed by one of penitence and gem ine anxiety for hie welfare. Something very serious must be troubling him ; matters about which she knew notliing, as he had more than once hinted THE day's story. 25 ! i. Perhaps he was really ill ; overworked he cer- tainly was. He complained constantly, sometimes bitterly, of being overtired. What if he were on the eve of an attack of brain-fever or of nervous prostration ? Thoughts somewhat after this man- ner had followed the bitter ones of the evening in question.^ and kept her awake and anxious until a late hour. It seemed almost an insult to find her husband as well as usual next morning; and she had begun the day by indignantly assuring herself that he was well enough, and was mei-ely indul- ging in some of his tempers. Nevertheless, sev- eral times through her day of solitude, the anxie- ties of the night had recurred to her ; sometimes with such force that she was tempted to take the next train out, and make her way through the great building to his office, in order to assure her- self that her husband was not seriously ill. It was the thought of the look of unmistakable annoy- ance with which he would greet any such attempt that held her in check, and she would proceed to reason hei'self back to common-sense again. Following Glyde's departure had come Hannah Bramlett, the woman who since the day of her marriage had been one of Estelle's thorns in the flesh. ! I r, '■•1 km i OVKURULED. CHAPTER III. I!l!|iii liiiiiiiiii; i!i;ii;i;;l "POOR HANNAH. IX all the wide range of topics for convereation, there seemed to be no two upon whicli Mre. Kalph Bramlett and her sister-in-law Hannah could agree. Poor Hannah had begun by making the mistake which is often made under similar circum- stances ; that of trying to advise, in some senses even to control, her new sister. Failing utterly in that, she had been unsparing of her censures. But within the last few weeks the two had in a certain sense changed places, Mi's. Bramlett having turned mentor. There was at firet a degree of comfort, or at least a lurking sense of satisfaction, in the thought of something tangible to complain of. A curious state of things existed. Hannah l^ramlett had passed her twenty-eighth birthday, and through all the years as far back as her sister- in-law could remember her, had been a pattern of dignity and propriety. She had been a reserved woman always with her own sex, and almost if not quite prudish in her intercourse with gentlemen. Now, when she had quite passed the age in which one might naturally look for imprudences, "POOU HANNAH. m she luul become one of the most-talked-ubout young AvonuMi in the neighborhood. And of all jjeivons witli whom to associate her name, that of Jack Tavlor seemed to her sister-in-law the woi-st. "Who is Jack Taylor, anyway?" she had asked once or twice of her husband, or of Hannah her- self; and her lip had curled in a way which in- dicated that she, at least, knew who he was, and that her knowledge was not to his advantage. Poor Jack certainly had an unenviable record 'hehind him. "A worthless, drunken fellow," "A ne'er-do-weel in any direction," "An unprinci- pled creature," "A man who killed his wife l)y dissipation and neglect," — this was the verdict, variously phrased according to the style of the speaker, that one was sure to receive when one (piestioned concerning him. It is true that Jack had not drank any liqucr for several months, and was keeping himself as steadily at work as pre- vious habits of superficiality and his general repu- tation would admit. But when every good thing which could be said of him was freelv admitted, tlie question was, why should Hannah Bramlett permit his almost daily visits ? Not only this, but that estimable young woman walked the streets with him, allowed him to attend her home from the v/eekly prayer-meetings and from other public J places. She allowed him to linger at the gate, not merely for a few minutes, but sometimes for a full half -hour; indeed, there were watchei-s wdio af- 28 OVEIIRULED. illiill ! ; II firmed that on certain occasions it had been an hour and ten minutes by the clock before the vigil closed. Mrs. Bramlett, when in her- indignation she had told off his sister's sins to her husband, had not exaggerated the stories. The truth is, as they had come to her, through the medium of her washerwoman, reported by the aforesaid Lena, they had been sufficiently offensive, and she had not been tempted to add even a shade of meaning. The tongues of a certain class of people were un- doubtedly busying themselves Avith Hannah Bram- lett's affaii-s. Mrs. Brandett was loyal enough to her husband's family to be genuinely alarmed at this. It was one thing to find fault with Hannah, hei-self ; it was quite another to have the neighbor- hood gossips making free with her name. That lurking sense of satisfaction which the matron had felt when she first realized the opportunity for criticism had entirely passed. She realized the importance of urging her husband to the rescue. All things considered, it will be undei-stood, I think, that she came to the evening in question unfitted to be helpful to the nerves of a weary, debt-haunted husband. She had made a braver effort than l^alph Bramlett would perhaps ever understand, to rise above the disturbances of the day. She would have been able, perhaps, to have met him half-way, but, as has been noted, he did not meet her half-way ; and when she introduced his sister as a topic for conversation, he did not "POOU HANNAH. 29 give her credit for genuine anxiety, but believed that she had selected simply another theme for his annoyance. With such a series of discomforts and misunderstandings acting upon two such natures as Ralph Bramlett and his wife, how could the evening have ended other than it did ? While Estelle Ih'amlett in her pretty sitting- room was indulging her disappointed and bitter thoughts, and Ralph Bramlett in his library was staring at unpaid bills, and inwardly groaning at the sight, All's. Edmonds and her daughter Mar- jorie sat together in their cheerful back jiarlor, which, although they had been at home so short a time, had already taken on that mysterious resem- blance to themselves which is a peculiarity of cer- tain rooms. Mrs. Edmonds had sewing materials about her; and the latest magazine, with freshly cut leaves, w^as waiting for Marjorie, to entertain her so soon as the letter she was writing should be finished. But Marjorie's pen had stopped, and was being balanced on one finger, in an absent- minded way, wdiile its owner sat lost in thought. Mi's. Edmonds had watched her silently for several minutes ; at last she spoke, — " Well, Marjorie ? Is that letter unusually hard to write ? " " The leiter ? Oh, no, mother, that is finished ; at least 1 have only a sentence or two to add. I had forgotten it." "I noticed that your thoughts seemed to be m] 4 30 OVERRULED. iiiillilliilllli llll'li'! r I very closely occupied. If I am to jiulgo from your face, the revery is not altoj^ether a pleasant one." Marjorie smiled. ^^ Did 1 l(»()k cross, niollier? 1 must have a very tell-tale face." Tlicn, after a numient, "To tell the truth, I have not Ikjcu ahle to j^et away from some of the things that (ilyde told me this afternoon. She is trouhled about Estelle and Halph." Mi's. Kdnnrnds sewed steadily for several sec- onds. She could not decide whether to question or be silent. At last she said, — " What about them ? Anything new? I'hat is, I mean, anything different from what you ex- pected ? " " Yes," said Marjorie in a low voice ; " I think my faith had other expectations. We have been praying for a long time." There seemed to be no reply to make to this. After another silence, the mother questioned again. "What does Glyde say?" " Oh, nothing pronounced, of course ; that is, nothing which she meant to have definite. But she is such a guileless little creature that she tells more than she imagines. They have both, it seems, quite given up the habit of attend- ing prayer-meeting, and they do not even have family worship. In fact, I gather from Glyde's talk that their attendance at churcli on Sundays liiiiiii Hill i "POOH HANNAH. »» 81 is so extremely irregular that it is almost begin- ning to be marked when they are present, instead of when they are absent. Of coui-se Glyde did not say this ; but from her troubled face when she talked about the hindmnces in their religious life, I gathered it. Half-way living is not like Ralph ; with him it must be all, or nothing. What is there, mother, that we can do to help them?" It was hard for Mrs. Edmonds to reply. If she had spoken the hope of her inmost soul, it would have been that her Marjorie would let Ralph Bramlett and his wife entirely alone ; forget their existence Jis much as posaible, and live her own sweet, strong life without regard to their petty one. But neither policy nor conscience would agree to such speaking, so she hesitated. Pres- ently Marjorie answered her silence, — " I know, mother, that j'^ou sometimes find it difficult to undei-stand my persistent interest in these two ; but — we were children together, you remember, and — I realize now that I influenced them both much more than I was aware at the time. I sometimes think that they are living out the life which I fostered in them ; and if my in- fluence had been different, why " — She spoke in half-sentences, with distinct pauses between, as though it was difficult to formulate her thought. But her mother made haste to answer, — "Really, Marjorie, I must say I think that is ■tV '.M 11? V * m im I ! 32 OVERRULED. I !i il mm I llil: if ll liii'i^ I t Hill il mere sentimentalism. People must live their own lives. Ralph and Estelle have reached the age of maturitj'-, and are responsible for their own doings and their own failures ; to foster in them a no- tion that other people are to blame, is merely to help them in a line of self-excuse to which both are only too prone already, if I am not mistaken in them. It was Ralph's besetment from his babyhood." " I know," said Marjorie quickly ; " I remember you used always to say so. Of course I do not mean to say anything of this sort to them ; I was merely thinking aloud. But you do not mean that we are not responsible for the influence which we exert?" " To a degree we are, of course ; and I do not deiiy that if you had been a Christian from your childhood, you might have influenced for good not only those two, but your other companions. But all that is past. It is a sorrowful fact that we cannot undo the past. The thought ought cer- tiiinly to make us more careful of our present ; but unavailing regrets, an attempt to accomplish in the present what belongs to the past, weaken our influence over othei*s, and savor of sentiment rather than religion." Marjorie laughed pleasantly. ''Mother dear," she said, " it is the firet time I ever knew vou to accuse me of sentimentality. Have I not gener- ally been almost too matter-of-fact to suit your "POOR HAXXAH. 33 poetic temperament? I assure you I mean the merest commonplace now. I have shed my teai-s over past follies, and put them away ; it is the present that interests me. If I can l)ut do my duty now. I shall leave the past mistakes with- Ilim who has promised to hide them. l>ut I frankly admit that I am more interested in Kalph and Estelle than in any other friends of nine ; and I daily ask God to show me ways of helping them. It was the predominant thought in our home-coming. I liad a feeling that they were in need of help. Aside from this, mother, you and I can do no less than try. We have covenanted to do so, yo\i remember." " I promised to pray for them," said Mi's. Edmonds in a low, troubled toi^e. " Yes ; but what is prayer worth unless we sup- plement it so far as possible by effort?" Poor Mrs. Edmonds ! She was willing to pray during the period of her natural life for these two friends of her daughter's girlhood ; but to come into daily social contact with them, to feel that her daughter was interesting hereelf in them in a special manner, planning for them, giving her- self as it Avere to efforts in their behalf, was an experience from which she shrank with an inten- sity that she vainly told herself wac utter folly. To understand her feeling, one would need to realize what it was for a mother to look forward for a year or two to the probable marriage of her m m ill! iiiilllliil ii III' I 34 OVKTIRITLED. daughter with a young man of whom she did not approve, and then to feel herself suddenly lifted above the danger by the marriage of the young man to another woman ; and yet to feel that her daughter's life had been scarred, at least, by the experience. More than tliat, this mother knew that the scar had been deep. If her daughter had come back to meet Ralph Bramlett Avitli utter indifference, the mother would hav; been satis- fied, would have felt that all was as it should be ; but to own to more than common interest in and anxiety for this man who had done Avhat he could to make her life a wreck ; not only this, but to proceed on this fii'st quiet evening at home to plan ways of reaching and influencing him, was more than the poor mother's faith was equal to. Once more Marjorie answered the look on her face. "Mother dear, don't be anxious. I ua not going to do anything erratic, nor in the k u^i out of the line of the conventional. I am thinking r*' ly of an afternoon call upon Estelle, — an informal running-in, such as she is not willing to give me, it seems. Glyde said she asked her to come this afternoon, and she declined because it would be more proper to call first with her husband. Think of such formalities between Estelle Douglass and myself I " and Marjorie laughed lightly. " I shall forestall all such proprieties by going to-mori'ow, I think, to have a little old-time chat with her, \ :■ "1> I'OOIl HANNAH. 3/ i) and establish her, if possible, upon a friendly foot- ing. Then, in time, I shall hope to he ahle to in- fluence her ill the direction of her highest good, and, through her, to reach Ralph. I am afraid the poor fellow is troul)led in more ways than one. Glyde thinks he is unhappy in his Imsiness relations. I never believed that his conscience would permit him to continue in peace as l>ook- keeper in a distillerv.'' Mi's. Edmottds opened her lips to say that she did not believe he had any conscience; then she closed them again with the words unspoken. Of what use ? "If I could, through Estelle," Marjorie went on, " help him to see that to connect himself with such a business, however remotely, was his fii'st mistake, and pereuade him to get right with his conscience in that direction, I should have hope for the rest. Do you not think, mother, that it may have been the starting-point with him ? " " No, dear ; I think the starting-point, as you call it, was away back in his childhood or early youth. His moral nature was never strong ; and his obstinacy, that strong point in a weak nature, was always at the front. The trouble is that you invested Ralph from his childhood with qualities that he did not possess, and l)ecause as a man he did not exhibit them, he keeps you in a constant state of disappointment. My opinion is that Ralph Bramlett will have to be entirely made over before . ''1 I I iH I 1 i ^'^ 1; H .'i I'm 36 OVERRTTLED. ;i;:ii! he will be other than a disappointment to those of his friends who have his highest interests at heart." Marjorie made no effort to argue the question. In her heart she believed that her mother was hopelessly prejudiced against this old friend of hers. . " Very well, mamma," she said quietly. " You and I must remember that the grace of God can do exactly that for people." Then, after a mo- ment's silence, she changed the subject, or rather brought forward another form of what was to her the same subject. "The gossips of this locality are still alive, mother; I think it will astonish you to hear whose name they are making free with now. Of all women in the world I should have expected Hannah Bramlett to escape such ordeals." • " Hannah Bramlett ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ed- monds, surprised out of the instinctive reserve in which she encased herself whenever the Bramlett name was under discussion. " What can they pos- sibly find to gossip about in her ? " " That is the most extraordinary part of it. Do you remember that Jack Taylor whose wife I* stayed with while Mr. Maxwell went for a doctor, and who died while I was in the house ? Hannah, you know, interested herself in the poor wretch, tried to help him to get work, and to keep away from the saloons. She succeeded too ; I heard, POOR HA NX AH. 87 ])efore we left home, that she was having a really remarkable iiifluenee over him. It seems that her efforts have contiimed, and have been crowned with such success that poor Jack hius not taken a drop I'or months, and he works steadily every day. He has earned himself some decent clothes, and goes to church quite regularly ; but now the gossips, who let him travel toward destruc- tion without a word, are interesting themselves in him and in Hannah, to a degree that is start- ling." " But in what way ? " asked Mi*s. Edmonds, l)e- wildered. " Surely no one disapproves of helping a poor wretch to reform I " " No ; but having reformed he becomes a legiti- mate subject, it seems, for idle tongues. Glyde thinks poor Hannah has been thoughtless, perhaps. She has allowed him to come often to see her, and has walked with him on the streets quite often, and has stood talking with him at her own gate once or twice, possibly until a later hour than cus- tom approves ; and the gossips, who seem to be delighted with the whole subject, have taken hold of it, and added what they pleased to make it in- teresting, until now, Glyde says, the street-corner loungera speak of Hannah as ' Jack Taylor's best girl,' and ask him when he is going to get his house ready for her I " " Is it possible ! " said Mrs. Edmonds. " What an absurdly imprudent condition of things for a m fi r S8 DV^KKIMH.ED. woman of her age to be beguiled into! It must be that that liramlett family are all devoid of connnon-sense ." And then Marjorie resolved that she would talk no more with her mother al)out tiie liramletts. 1 jlilr: ' ■ ;:i! Ml'V;v.,;i ill liiifii ■11 " MARJORTE EDMONDS. S9 CHAPTER IV. ^■11 " MARJORIE EDMONDS. 9» TRUE to her decision, the following; afternoon fourd Marjorie awaiting admittance at Ralpli Bmmlett's home. A cvirions half-smile was on her face, and a far-away look in her eyes, as she read the name " Bramlett " on the doorplate. The time had been when this young woman had thought of that name even in connection with such trivial- ities as doorplates. She remembered a certain June evening when she had waited with Ralph to hd admitted to Judge Bartlett's house, and he, calling attention to the name on the door, had said : " It isn't quite Bramlett, but it takes about the same space, doesn't it? However, we shall not have that style of lettering on our door ; I de- test it. Do you arrange even such matters about our house that is to be, Marjorie? I think no small detail of our establishment escapes me." She had laughed in response, and said gayly, " Our castle in the air." Yet with the laugh had come a blush, and she had admitted to herself that no smallest detail of that dear castle could be un- important to her; so entirely a matter of course il Ji ' H 1 ot in i I !!|jilill"l!!!li' OVER RULED. did it seem to lier that, sometime in the lovely future, the name Bramlett would cover her own. Yet here she stood at Kalph Bramlett's door, await- ing admission, and the p/esiding genius of liis homo was Estelle Douglass Bramlett ! Was it not well for her that slie could smile ? Not simply a brave smile, but a quiet, natural one. That time was all in the past, as she had told lier mother; and her heart, as well as lier conscience, said, '* It is well." She knew now that she had never been intended to become the wife of Ralph Bramlett ; that a wise and kind overruling Provi- dence had held her from it, and she could look up thankfully because of the ruling. Yet it was, to say tlie least, interesting to be standing here at Ralph Bramlett's door. She had speculated a lit- tle over their first meeting. How was it possible to do otherwise when she remembered with such vividness their last interview? Probably Ralph, too, remembered it. If they could both forget it, everything would be comparatively easy. She went swiftly over that last interview while she waited, recalling, almost in spite of herself, some of Ralph Bramlett's wild words. " Estelle Douglass be hanged ! "he had said sav- agely, when she had haughtily reminded him of his engagement with her. And then he had poured out that alarming appeal to her not to cast him off, to remember how long they had been tacitly pledged to each other, to overlook all the past, and i ,■-,. "MARJORIE EDMONDS. »» 41 ''5* permit nothing to separate them again. " Let us be married right away ! " had been one of his pas- sionate outcries. Oh ! she remembered it vividly. The remembrance called the blood to her face even now. But the blush was because she realized that the man who had spoken such words to her was at that moment, of his own will and desire, engaged to be married to another. Long ago she had set- tled it that some experience of which she knew nothing had caused a temporary insanity, during which he had forgotten his position, and gone back into their past. What a humiliation it must have l)een to him when he came to himself, and realized what he had said ! It was possible — nay, sl'e had settled it with hereelf that it was entirely probable — that he had brooded over this interview until it had had much to do with the retrograde life at which Glyde Douglass had mournfully hinted. In the old days she had been well acquainted with him, and none knew better than she what a de- moralizing effect a sense of self-abasement had on him. It was entirely within the range of his imagination to believe that she, Marjorie, despised him. If she could but meet him in a friendly way, quite as though they were, and always had been, and always would be, real friends, it might accom- plish much. It was this train of thought that had brought her to the decision which she had an- nounced to her mother, and brought her finally to Kalph Hramlett's door. IL'! i II i I ^ 1^' 42 OVERRULED. It was Lena who admitted her, and she waited in state in the handsome parlor lilie any formal caller. When Mrs. Hramlett came, it was evident that she felt formal and dignified. In vain did Marjorie strnggle to take lier old friendly place. " What a pretty home yon have, Estelle ! I have often thought of you in it, and fancied myself running in to see you. It is even prettier than I imagined it. Have you grown used to housekeep- ing? or does it still seem queer to he regarded as mistross, with no mother in the hackground ready for a[)peal ? " '* Oh, yes," the matron said, with a cold smile, she was quite used to it. Almost anything he- came an old story after a few months. "And have you heen well all these months? Aren't you thinner than you used to he? How is Ralph? Does he look just as he did? The truth is, it seems to me years since I went away. I am not used to heing so long from home, you know. I may call your hushand Ralph, may I not? I cannot seem to bring my tongue into the habit of saying * Mr. Bramlett ; ' I think of him very much as I fancy others do of their brothers.'" Nothing could Ikj more sincere than this sen- tence. The time had been when it flushed her cheek, and brought a look of indignation to her eyes, to have Estelle Douglass talk to her about Ralph Bramlett being the same as her brother. But all that seemed very long ago, like a piece of " MATUORIE EDMONDS. •» 43 hor childhood tliat liad been foolish iind l)een \mt iuvay. What she had desired exeeedingly was to establish herself on snch a footing with this yonng ('()Ui)le that they would hont'stly look ui)on her as a sister; one who was interested in everything that pertained to their life, and ready to l)e as sympathetic and helpful as possible. If (ilyde was not mistiiken, Kalpli, especially, stood in dire need of a sister's influence. Hut her heart misgave her as slie looked at Esteile's luiresponsive face. She liad been mistaken, she told hei-self, in thinking her paler than of old ; there was a rich glow on her cheeks. These thoughts floated through her mind as she listened to Mi's. Bramlett's rei)ly. Kalph was quite well, she believed, though she hardly saw enough of him to be certain. He was like all men, so absorbed in business as to have neither time nor heart for other ideas. As to what name her guest should use toward him, the wife utterly ignored this question. And then, suddenly, it seemed the time for her to ask questions. "' What of yourself, Marjorie ? What have you found to occupy you all tJiis while? I was sur- prised to learn that you had returned just as you went away. How is Mr. Maxwell ? " *' He is quite well, or was when we last heard. He is coming to spend the midwinter vacation with us. I hope you will see a good deal of him then. I feel sure that both you and llalj)!! would enjoy him." lu i," i H i\ 1 '^i p'l"""'~-T V 44 OVERRULED. 4( 1 I'l'il'!; ; I'll ill ■ 'I ' illlllllll And when is the marriage to take place ? " Mrs. Bramlett had not forgotten her old art of asking direct questions when she chose, undeterred by any feeling of delicacy. It may be that she thought Marjorie's frank kindliness justified her in asking so peraonal a question. But was ever stu- pider guest? For the moment Marjorie was bewil- dered. Could she mean Glyde? Hut that was absurd ; she would not question an outsider about her own sister's affairs. Then suddenly tlie per- sonality of the question dawned upon her, and she laughed. "You must mean my marriagt, . think. My friend, I haven't any idea. Nothing is farther from my thoughts at present. My own opinion is that I shall stay close beside my mother, and be a good, useful old-maid sister to all my friends. I have always thought that a more useful life than that could hardly be imagined, and at present it cer- tainly* seems a pleasant one." There was no mistaking the earnestness in Mrs. Bramlett's tone when her next direct question was put. "Do you mean me to underetand that you are not engaged to Mr. Maxwell ? " The rich color flowed into Marjorie's face, but her laugh was free and unembarrased. "My dear Estelle," she said, "how could you have imagined such a state of things? I assure you that nothing can be farther from the thouglits !!!■.'!»!! " MAIMOIIIK KDMONDS. 45 of either of us. Mr. Maxwell is ji true and valued friend; speaking of brothers, 1 am sure no girl could have a better one than he is to me; hut tluit is quite the limit of our relationship. We have never for a moment thought of any other." *^ Well I " said Kstelle, drawing her hieath hard, and speaking quiekly, as one impelled to si)eak, whether she would or not, — "then all I have to say is, you are even a worse flirt than I took you to be." "Estelle ! Have I (^ver said or dime anything that justifies you in using sueh language to me ? " There was the pathos of wounded feeling in her voice, as well as a strong undertone of indignation. Estelle was instantly ashamed of heivelf. " I beg your pardon," she said, trying to laugh, " I should not have said that ; it is really none of my business, of coui-se ; but you took me so utterly by surprise. Why, Marjorie, everybody thinks you are engaged to Mr. Maxwell ; and ever since we heard you were coming home, people have been wondering whether you woidd be married l)efore your return, or Avait to have the wedding at home. I am sure I was never more amazed in my life." Just what reply Marjorie would have made will not be known. An unexpected interru})tion oc- curred. It had been months since Ralph liramlett had come out from his business by an early train. Indeed, his wife counted hei"self fortunate if he arrived in time for their late dinner, so uU-engn .-.- •^r \t r] • ■ -i i 't I '■\^ 1 if. I ■m 46 OVEIIIIULKD. ! K I ii:': I ',■■ I I ing liiul liis ofTice business become. Iler cjiller hud taken eare to assure heixelf of this fact before she chose the hour for her visit, her }>lan being to re-establish tlie most friendly rehilio.is with the wife before coming in contact with the husband. Indeed, one must do her judgment the justice to explain that her i)lan involved influencing her old friend Ralph almost entirely through the medium of his wife. She reasoned that, having so little time outside of business houi-s, he would naturally want to spend it chiefly with his wife, and of coui-se she would not often see him. In short, she desired and planned to act the guardian angel to this friend of her youth, without coming often enough in contact with him to disturb the angelic influence. That is not the way in which she put it to hei-self, yet it is perhaps a fair explanation of her inward meaning. However, on this particular day the unexpected happened. Mr. Hramlett came home by the early tmin ; and hearing his wife's voice as he entered the hall, and believing one of her sistei-s to }ye Avith her, he pushed open the door without eel'emony, and stood framed ir the door- way, and ejaculated the one word, — " Marjorie I " Then Marjorie's self-possession returned to her. Not even positive nuleness on Estelle's part should keep 'ler from trying to be helpful in this home. If Ralph supposed that she cherished indignation against him because, for a single moment, under •• MA 11.) OKIE EDMONDS. tlie power of some excitement, he had lost his head entirely, and spoken words which must have been a humiliation to him ever since, it should be her duty at the first opportunity to assure him of liis mistake. Accordingly she arose, and advanced to meet him with outstretched hand. They were to be friends, then. She must have l)een gratified, not only at the instant look of re- lief, but of unqualified pleasure, which overspread Ralph Bramlett's face. He grasped the offered hand with an eagerness which did not escape his wife's eyes, and drawing a chair beside Marjorie, plunged at once into the most earnest convei-sation, which was so worded, probably by accident, that Estelle was of necessity left outside. Neither did he appear to notice it when she murmured an ex- cuse, and abruptly left the lom. Marjorie did, liowever, and was disturbed ; not at being left alone for a few minutes with her old friend, — she desired to establish their relations on such a broth- erly and sisterly basis as to make this the most ordinary of happenings, — but because she felt afraid that Estelle would not realize how hearty and entire was her interest in herself, nor how anxious she was to be her friend. "It is really Estelle that 1 want," said this unworldly schemer. "What a juty that Kalpli came so soon ! I wish he would go to his dress- ing-room, or somewhere else, and give me a chance to visit with his wife." vl vfl \' if M .'it "ill ill ill 111 I iiiliiiiii 111 I ;iii,:t :, 48 OVERRULED. Yet although this uncomfortable feeling floated through her mind, she had not, after all, the remo- test conception of the state of turmoil into which she had thrown Estelle Bramlett. Be it under- stood that she had never realized in the past what was patent to some persons ; namely, that Estelle was jealous of her influence over Ralph. Why should there be any such feeling ? Marjorie would have reasoned, if she had thought about it at all. Did he not choose hei, and give himself to her? and had he not made her his wife ? Of course she was to him above all othere. That last interview with him, in which he had spoken words which would imply the contrary, was left out of the matter altogether as soon as it was definitely set- tled that those words were but the ravings of a temporarily unbalanced brain. Her surprise and consternation would have been great could she have followed the wife, and watched her as, having locked her door against all possible intrusion, she walked up and down the room, eyes dry and bright, and seeming to flash venom, and hands clasped in so tight a grip that had she not been under the influence of violent excitement it would have hurt her, muttering from time to time such words as these, — " A wicked, wicked woman! Worse, a hundred times, than an ordinary flirt ! What does she mean? Haven't I trouble enough without having her steal into my house like the serpent that she " MAUJOIUE KDMONDS. -10 ..9 IS ; I hate lier ! I wish I hud tohl her so, and ootteu rid of her in some way — in any way — be- fore Kalph came. O Ralph ! Kalph ! " The name was uttered as a sort of moan, hut still there were no teai-s. Estelle Bramlett was a woman who had no teai-s with w'hich to relieve lier deepest feelings. In her pocket there Imrned at that moment a hit of paper which she had found on the floor of her husband's study. It was cov- ered all over with a name, written in different styles of his fine hand. That name was Marjorie Edmonds, — " Marjorie Edmonds," repeated in (jrerman text, in fine flowing hand, in bold busi- ness hand, in curves and shades and flourishes, and twice carefully written *' Marjorie Edmonds IJramlett ! " What did he mean? Why should lie employ his idle moments in writing that girl's name in every imaginable style? Why had he actually added to it his own name, — her name ? Did he wish all the time that it were Marjorie Edmonds Bramlett, instead of Estelle Douglass Bramlett ? How w as she to bear any of it ? %<'m ! t m ■U ■■■s. 'I Iliil 50 OVERRULED. i!M! !!-'i| ii ! I I I I! I || III Plinnll; i b CHAPTER V. TEMPTATIONS. IN the glow of the moonlight two figures were distinctly outlined at the gate of the Bramlett homestead. The hour was late, and, especially in that quiet part of the world, most people were sleeping ; 3'et still they lingered, Hannah ] 'ramlett inside the gate, with her anxious face upturned toward Jack Taylor, who lounged against the gate- post, and listened with what he meant for an air of respect. Hannah's voice as well as face was anxious. '*> Von know, Jack, you own that it is a constant temptation to 30U, and you have half pi'omised me a dozen times that you would give it up. Why don't vou? " '' That is the question," said Jack. " Why don't T ? It isn't so easy as you women-folks think." " I know it isn't easy. Jack ; at least, I have heard others besides yourself say the same thing. But you are not a child, to yield to a temptation because it is hard to resist it. You have been brave in struggling against a much greater tempta- tion than this." li Ii! ! "■' TEMPTATIONS. 61 " There is where you are wrong," said Jack ' toyetlier. When I o-et the fumes of a good cigar, it isn't tlie eigar I think so mueli al)out, after all, as the ])randy ; I seem to see it somehow skulking behind the other smell, and I hive to fly out and get tlie eigar tliat I know I can have, to keep me from rushing into the thing that 1 know I mustn't touch. Hut I shall touch it some day ; I feel dead sure of it. Things are getting worse with me instead of better. That is tbe way it has Ik^cu all my life ; I couhl kee^) sober up to a certain i)oint, tlien I was off, and notliing in this life or the next one could prevent it. Vou know what 1 have been through? If anything could have kept me sober, it was that little girl of mine, — my wife, you know, — and yet I killed her with the drink." Poor Hannah lirandett ! how utterly helpless she felt before this vision of a tempted soul. It was as if for the fii-st time she had been given a glimpse into darker depths than she liad before imagined. .Fack Taylor, looking at her, could distinctly see a tear rolling slowly down her cheeks. A tear of sympathy, it may be, but also of disappointment. This shocked and dismayed him, as tears on the face of an habitually self- TKMPTATIONS. 55 controlled woman alwiays must dismay those who are not utterly hardened. It roused him to instant endeavor. "I'll tell you what. Miss Hannah, I'm not worth all the trouhle you are taking for me, and that's a fact. You just let go of me, and let me slide. There are fellows in this town who are not so far gone as I, and young chai)s who are just hegin- ning, and some who haven't hegun yet, but they will. If you will just turn your mind to some of them, and save them, ycm will he doing something worth while. Hut I'm not of any particular ac- count, anyway. My wife is dead, and mother is dead, and there isn't a living soul who cai'es what l»ecomes of me." The effect wjis utterly different from what Han- nah would have hoped for, had her tears l)een planned for effect. They were instantly dried ; and Hannah, leaning over the gate-post, laid her hand on Jack's arm. He was watching her in- tently, a curious, eager look in his eyes. If this girl who had been so kind, — kinder than her soi't of folks had ever been to him before, — would only consent to drop her hold upon him, and let him slide, he could then go back to the tastes for wiiich his whole diseased l)ody and brain longed with something like an eiusy conscience, according to his distorted ideas of conscience. A strange tigiit was at that moment going on in Jack Tay- lor's mind. He was makingr Hannah IJramlett Ki' ■''■| HI < 1 i'.m I'll 1 1 liiii ^: :,(*» OVKIIKULKD. I .:,; ■<■■]/. fi/ 'i:: •I ey 1 ! ii'W' tlie pivot oh Avhich his next action was to turn. If slie would only say, "Jack, I am disappointed in you ; I liave ludped you all I can. I must give you up," tlien would he go as straij^iit as im[)a- tient feet could carry him to tlie nearest saloon, and drink until this awful thii'st of his was quenched. Jt was heavier upon liim to-night than it had been for weeks before. What she said, witii her hand resting on his arm, was, — "Jack, I will never give you up; ncrcr^ as long as I live, so help me (iod ! I have asked him on my knees to make of you a good, true man, and to let me be a help Li) you in some way. Don't ask me to turn away from that hope and expectation. Jack, you are the first one I ever tried to help in my life, and if you fail me it will spoil my life as well as youi-s."' It was a strange appeal, and it had a strange effect. Jack ctMitinued to look at her steadfastly, but the light died out of his eyes, leaving instead almost a sullen look ; and he gave presently that long-drawn sigh and said, — " Well, then I suppose I must try it some more. I thought I wouldn't; but if you won't let go of a fellow, what can he do ? " An upper window of the Brandett homestead opened at that moment, — a head appeared, ana a voice was heard, — " Hannah, you ought not to stand out there any longer in the cold ; I wish you would come in." liKi TEMPTATIONS. 67 It was her mother's voice, and there wtis more tlian maternal solicitude for Hannah's health ex- pressed in it. ilannah knew what the admonition meant. So, in a degree, did Jack. He laughed a little bitterly. ♦*They are watching out for you, Miss Han- nah," he said; "you are getting yourself into lots of trouble by trying to helj) such a worthless fel- low as I am. It would be a great deal better for you just to give me up.*' " Hush ! " said Hannah. " I don't want you ever to say anything of that kind to me again. Remember what I have told you, that I will never give you up. We must not talk any longer now, it is late; but I shall expect to see you at the hall to-morrow as usual. Good-night." By the time she had locked the door, and toiled up the long flight of stairs, the door of her mother's room opened, and that good lady, in night attire, old-fashioned candlestick in hand, appeared to light her daughter through the hall, and speak her mind, — '*I wonder at you, Hannah! standing at the gate in the cold at this time of night, to talk with that fellow, after what Ralph said to you. I can't think what has got into you ; you never used to go on in this way before." " Oh, Ralph ! " said Hannah in a high-pitched, indignant voice ; " don't quote him to me, mother, to-night. If he would help me a little in what 1^.1 ' I- ^1 m o8 ovKiiiiiij:i). |flirV:i:1 I iiiii tryin.i; to do, instead of sinokiiij^ around tlic streets, settin'j;' l)ad examples for othei-s to follow, I migiit he nion; willinj^ to listen to what he has to say. I haven't hnrt anyhody hy standing at the gate a few minutes with a poor tempted hoy. Our voices couldn't have disturhed you to-night, 1 am sure ; we spoke low enough." *•" It isn't the disturhunce," said the mother in an injured tone; ^'vou know well enough, Han- nah, that I'm not one to l)e disturhed hv folks tiying to help othei-s. Hut there is common-sense in all things; and it isn't connnon-sense for you to stand out at the front gate at this time of night, talking with a good-for-nothing hoy. It does seem as though you were possessed. What do y(Ui sui)pose people think of you? At your age too ! " "I don't care what they think," said Hannah. She disappeared within her own room without so much as saying good-night to her mother, and slammed the door a little as she did so. By which token it will l)e seen that an angelic spirit had hy no means gotten complete possession of Hannah Bramlett. As to what people said of her, they were husy saying it that very night. She liad heen so earnest in her last words to Jack, that slie had not so nuich as noticed a ptissing carriage mov- ing very slowly along the road, while one pair of keen eyes watched with eagerness the scene TKMITATIONS. 60 at tlio gate. Perhaps IFaniiah would liave l)een more eareful Jiatl she iiotieed tlie carriage, and known that it contained Mr. and Mrs. Jonas Smith; and perliai)s not. Ilannaii had her own sliare of tlie IJrandett ohstinacy. Hut Mi-s. Sniitii loolved and lookc^i^ and spoke her mind, — "Just see that IJramlett girl — I s'i)()se she calls herself a girl, though she is thirty if she is a (lay — standing at the gate with Jaek 'laylor, with her hand on his arm, and leaning over to gaze into his faee I I dare say he is drunk this very minute. What eaii her folks he thinking about? Haven't they any influence over her, do you suppose? Or don't they know how she is going on with that fellow? I declare, somebody ought to tell them what people are saying. If a woman of her age hasn't learned connnon-sense, it is high time she was looked after, for the sake of the girls, and the boys too, for that matter. To be sure, she can't hurt Jack Taylor! lUit who would have expected such goings on in a Hramlett! " Certainly life was bringing to Ihmnah IJrandett some hard experiences. As she had told Jack Taylor, she had lived her life until very recently without even an effort to help along the work of the world in any way. She had not told him how intense her desire had been to ttike her place with the great army of those who thought of others in- stead of themselves ; whose days were tilled with ill '1 s I /. is. • V I: ,' '' 111 ill M I il^f !' 60 OVERKULED. Ill* I Si (''i ' !i! iillplj' iilLi ii:: m important work : — service, instead of with petty routine. But slie had been trammelled on every side, chiefly by the feeling which seemed to pos- sess all who knew her, that Haniiah Bramlett could not be counted upon in any way. She was, in a singular se?ise of the phrase, a girl who had had no place in life. Other girls in their teens had been full of this sweet, fascinating world, charmed with its pui-suits, intoxicated, al- most, with its pleasures. It had had no oppor- tunity to charm Hannah. She had been a shy, backward girl, living much within hereelf, always when at home busy with the daily burdens of life on an Uiiproductive farm where hired labor was scarce and work heavy. The long winter evenings, that might have been made to do so much for the girl, had very largely been spent with her father and mother in the large farmhouse kitchen, gathered around a single kerosene lamp of not modern style, her father carefully reading the daily paper, her mother busy with the interminable mending-basket. Hannah had been expected from almost her babyhood to do her full share of the mending, and had faith- fully attacked this duty which her soul hated. Wlien her brother Ralph was a little boy he liad escaped the kitchen by going early to bed. As he grew older, and indeed blossomed suddenly into young manhood, he had gone out into the world, and taken his place among the young people va"i'' TEMPTATIONS. as Hannah never had. In fact, he had speedily become a leader among a certain class of young people, and had his intimate friends, who included him as a matter of couree in all their plans. Oh, yes, Hannah had heen a school-girl, and a faith- ful, painstaking scholar. She had made fairly good use of such opportunities as had teen hei-s, and would have liked nothing better, had the books been at her command, than to fill the long winter evenings with reading and study. Hut as life on the farm grew harder she was more and more needed at home ; and as no one recog- nized for her the importance of her continuing at school, — her teachers, as a rule, being busy with more brilliant pupils, — she early and quietly dropped out of line. She had had but few ac- quaintances in school and no intimates. In short, a greater contrast could hardly be im- agined than that which her own young life and her brother's presented. ■»>ils j ikl 1 k "^ 62 OVERRULED. CHAPTER VI. W' ill POUR JACK! THERE is sonietliiiig very sad about this rt- view of the lehition between brother and sister. One eannot lielp thinking how much they might have been to each other had either or both been different. Had there been less disparity in their ages, matters might not have been so bad. I)Ut there was a period in Ralph Brandett's life during whicli liis sister distinctly ruled over him, not always with a gentle hand. 81ie loved him after a manner which he did not, and perhai)s never would, understand: but she made him con- stantly remember that he was snl)ject to her. Shy and timid with other jjcople, her native energy to(>k the form of aggressiveness with him, and her authority kept that of his gentler mother's in the background. Then, suddenly as it seemed to Ihuniah. there had -come a great change. lialph escaped her. and went out into the school-boy world, and grew tall and strong, and threw off utterly the yoke of subjection. Had he been the sort of boy he might have been, — the sort of which there are a verv few in the world, — and POOH JACK! 63 allowed his dawning manhood to assume a protec- tive form, and clung to his sister, taking her with liiiu on occasion into his new world, tellin.g her about it in a confidential way, he might have done with her almost as he would. Her nature and her love were such that they could have changed re- lations, and he Avould have been accepted as the f,niide and mentor. Hannah hei'self, when she be- gan to realize the change in him, had for a time a dim sense of this possibility. She began timidly to question him concerning matte i-s in which he had evidently outstripped her. What did people say about thus and so? AVhat was the accepted idea concerning this or that matter? But he had failed to recognize liis ()[)portunity ; he had laughed at her questions, scoft'ed at her scruples, sneered into worthlessness all plans of hers, and counted her out of his engagements as a matter of course. Not because he meant to l)e uubrotherly, but be- cause the fo'ir years of 1 iilil I 11 i:( i;!i ill lit ill naM,:.::;:|: ill 68 OVERTltrLET>. ■Mr'l- none of them more entirely so than Hannah, l^i- eonseiously slie luid prided h^reelf upon this fact. Slie was not haiid«on!«:, she could not lay claim to o-enius, or even talent in any special direction, hut she hore with honor mid dignity an honored name. No breath from the outside world had ever blown ujK)n her in disapi)roval, or ever could, so it had seemed to her, intrenched as she was behind gen- erations of propriety. And yet, behold ! gossiping tongiies had dared to play with her name. To what extent she was not quite sure. If the truth be told, she believed that a very large portion of the tale that had been indignantly told to her had had its birth in the imagination of her brother's wife ; but some foundation she must have had, of coui'se, and this thought rankled, struck deep, in- deed, in Hannah Bramlett's heart. Was it possible that it was such a mean, wicked world that a woman like herself, who had lived so hiany years of blameless life, could not show kindness to, and patience with, a misguided boy like Jack Taylor, in order to try to save him, without becoming the victim of cruel tongues ? It was characteristic of Hannah Bramlett's character that, although she had cried bitterly in secret over the story when it first came to her through the channel of Estelle's indignation, she had not for a single moment thought of throwing off Jack Taylor, or of chan- ging in any way her efforts to save him. People must talk if they would, — it was only the low llli iilil POO II JACK! r^9 and I'oai'se who did so, — aiul lier brother s wife must lower hei'self to listen to such talk if she would ; but she, Hannah, would move steadily for- ward in the work that she had undertaken. Jack Taylor was to be saved to the world and to (iod ; and she was to Ije, in a degree at least, the instru- ment used to this end. Should any gossiping tongues deprive her of such a joy as that ? Not for a second did she hesitate, but the sacrifice was no less bitter. She had told Jack Taylor that night that she would never give him up, and she meant it. Yet as she presently slipped down on her knees to pour out her disappointment and pain to the One who alone seemed able to under- stand her, there came at first only d buret of passionate tears. But it is blessed to remember that the Maker of hearts understands the lan- guage of tears. Jack Taylor, left to himself, went with long strides toward the uninviting quarters- that he called home. There was in his heart a curious sense of defeat. He actually felt almost indignant at Hannah Bramlett. Why couldn't she let him alone? What was the use in tugging with him any longer ? She was injuring herself by it, as he had told her, though the poor fellow had not the least idea to what extent. He only knew that a certain class of people nudged elbows as he passed with her, and sometimes indulged in chuckles that were loud enough for his eare to catch. Occasion- 'h im iill ,J1I;:''! ..t] ill '0 ovrjtiin.Ki). ally they iisked him, with sly winks, how his hest <^iil was. It all seenitHl supremely silly to him ; hut he had au instinctive feeling that Hannah would dislike it very nuieh, and felt a chivalrous desire to keep her from knowing anything ahoul it. When he heai'd Mix. lirandett's voice that night calling to i»er daughtei-, it I'epresented Lo him a certain other class of people, who were sa\- ing that Hannah was demeaning herself hy having anything to do with him. "•I s'pose she i "' said the poor fellow to him- self dolefully. '"•I'm not worth doing anything with, and I told her so. I wish with all my soul that she would let me alone ; but she won't, she ain't of that kind. She is going to luive me a 'good, true man,' she says. My land ! she don't know what kind of a job she has undertaken. Jack Taylor get to be a 'good, true man ' I " Ten minutes' walk brought him to Main Street; as he turned the corner he came upon a former comrade t>f his, Joe l^erry by name. '' Halloo, Jack I " said that worthy good-na- turedly ; ''been seeing yoiw best girl home? It nuist be an awful bore to have to travel so far out with her every night. You will be glad when you get settled in a livelier place, won't you ? " Vou hold up on that, will you ? " said Jack a trifle fiercely ; " I'm not in the notion for any- thing of the kind to-night." I'ODW ,IA('K! n '^C)h, now, old fellow, don't be cross. What if you have got up in the world, so jiijrh that you can claim the IJiandetts .is your particular friends? That's no reason why you should lo(»k down on old acquaintances ; I thought better of you than that. I didn't mean any disiespect, you know; why, man. Tin ready to dance at your wedding whenever you say the word." Jack Taylor was, as Hannah had called hlni, nothing but a boy. The idea of there being sup- posed to be a wedding in prospect for him, and of his being allied witli the lirandett family, struck him as irresistibly ludii n)us, and he laughed outright. *' That's you," said Joe; '•'■treat a fellow half- way, though you have got up in tlu^ world. I'm looking forward to that wedding, I tell you, with a good deal of interest. I used to train in the higher circles myself, and it will seem nice to get counted in once more. You won't slight an old friend like me, of coui-se. Why, I'm ready to drink to your prospects any minute; though I don't know as she will allow that. She keeps you jjretty straight, don't she?" But Jack's fun had already subsided. '■' Look here," he said, in his gravest tone, ^* T don't want any more such talk as that; you don't mean a word y-ou say, of couixe ; but some things wci't bear making fun of. Because Miss Bram- lett has tal^en a notion to try to help a worthless ■) r i 9& KiW i'2 OVKIIIIULKI). oliap like me, is no reason why sl»e should Ix; insulted." "•Never thoup^ht of such a. thinjy, I tell you," said Joe, still in utmost good-ujiture. *' It is a streak of tip-toj) luck on your part, and I'm ^hn\ it has come to you. The Brandetts are no givat things as far as money goes, hut they are awful on respectahility. There's my Lord Hramlett in the distillery, you know; if you take his notion of it, he is the biggest toad there is in any of the puddles around. Hang me if I'd like him for a brother-in-law, though." " Shut up I " said Jack fiercely ; " T told you T didn't want any more chaffing of that kind. If there wasn't anything else in the way, you might remember that you are talking about a woman who is almost old enough to be my mother. But the thing is ridiculous in every way ; and there never was any such notion about it, of course." "Honor bright? Well, now, really, I didn't know. Old girls like that are queer sometimes. They've lost most of their chances, you know, and there's never any telling. What does she hang around you so for, if there isn't anything in it?" " She wants to make a man of me," said Jack, "a 'good true man!'" Then he laughed. There was bitterness in the laugh ; he had no heart for laughter. In truth, no human being knew POOR JACK! 78 how near Jack Taylor was to tlio verge, that iiiglit. Joe Uerrv laiiglied uproariously. "That's the .IjhI^v, is it?" he said. "Next thing she'll he <,^('tting you converted ; that's the way they do it. The very next thing I expect to hear of you, Jack, is that you have l)een down on your knees somewhere, making all kinds of prom- ises. I hope you'll keep 'em ! I've made a good many myself, in my day, and kept some of 'em, — for a week or two. I say, Jack! let's go into old Tawney's here, and take a drink to treat what may be." "Xo," said Jack; "I won't go into old Tawney's. What is the use of making it harder for me by iiskmg : '• The old girl won't let you, eh ? AVell, that is hard. Suppose we go in and have a smoke, then? That isn't wicked, you know. My Lord Bramlett puffs cigars all the time." lie was only good-natured and rollicking. He liiul no conception of the harm that he' might do. He had not even an idea of the awful burning tliirst which seemed to be consuming Jack that night; much less did he know of the drawing power for evil that the mere smell of tobacco had over the poor fellow. Jack, listening to the evil spirit that had been at his elbow all day, said within himself, "What's the use? I told her it would come some time. I gave her fair warning. 1 , ,1- * >^^ iiM ; i' u OVEIlllULEl). If! ivy$ If I ^-o into old Tawney's to-night, I shall driiil\ : 1 know I shall. Why not to-nijrht as well as aiiv time Poor tempted Jaek ili^lii;!;!!' ^iiiiiii! A CHANCE TO CHOOSE. «0 CIIAPTEU VII. A CHAl-fCE TO CHOOSE. I.'' f>> sjl, lift HE stood irresolute, almost within the jaws of the tempter. The door of '•• ( )ld Tawney's " saloon kept opening, and letting out odors that were as ambrosia to the poor diseased a[)petite. Voices that sounded eheery to him, and laugh- ter, floated out with the odors; it was l)riglit in there, and warm, and the night was cold; and Jack in his insufficient clotiiing siiiv cd, and longed for the comfort and companionship to l)e found just inside. He argued the ([uestion with himself. He was tired, he had worked harder tlian usual that day, and been held to it later; perliaps the smell of the li(pior would not tempt him as nnu'h as he thought, and a pleasant smoke in there would rest him. What if it did tempt him? He had been tem[)ted before, and had resisted; why shouldn't he do it again? He placed his foot on the lower step. '* That's right,'' said Joe IJerry encouragingly, "("ome on, it will be nice and warm inside; it is uui'onunoidy cold to-night for this time of vear." (,k () Jack Taylor! Vm so glad it is yo u. W on't OVEIlliULKD. you take me home? Tve been down on Carnell Street at the mission to help them with the sing- ing. My brothei-in-hiw was to eome for me at nine o'chxik ; but tliere nuist have been some mis- understanding, for he hasn't come. I've been wait- ing at the rooms for more than an hour. I'm afraid to be on the street alone at this time of night." It was a pretty girl, in the neatest of street cos- tumes, who thus addressed Jack. He, as well as his friend Joe, knew Glyde Douglass by sight. Jack, indeed, could boast of more knowledge than that — he had met her several times at the mission. She had spoken to him in a friendly way, and bowed afterwards when he met her on the street. By so much was he ahead of Joe Berry in respec- tability. Joe would not have thought of such a thing as bowing to Glyde Douglass, although he had knoAii her by sight from childhood. "■ Of course I'll take you home," Jack said, wutli cheerful alacrity ; and he took his foot down from the lower step of ^* Old Tawney's " saloon, and walked away briskly with the young lady by his side. Joe looked after them interestedly, giving a low chuckle the while. '"I wonder if they'll git him?'' he asked him- self. "They are trying for him for all they're worth ; if that little Douglass critter is going in too, maybe it will amount to something. She ^ pretty enough for 'most any fellow to do as slic A CHANCK TO CHOOSE ( ( says. Well, it would be funny if Jack Taylor would out and out reform, that's a fact. I'd 'most think / could, after that. And he ain't got no mother, either." Joe, poor fellow, had a mother who would have cried tears of joy if somebody had only 'Mnade something" out of him. As they walked down the moonlighted street, (tlyde explained more fully the perplexity in which she had been because of her brother's non- appearance, then suddenly returned to a matter tliat had troubled her before the question of get- ting home came up. "' Jack, do you know a young man by the name of Seber? William Seber?" "I reckon I do," said Jack promptly; "and I don't know any good of liim either." " I was afraid so," spoken sorrowfully. *' Is he very bad. Jack ? " '' Well," said Jack reflectively, " I don't know as he is any worse than dozens of othei's ; but he's a bad lot now, that's a fact. lie's good-natured, though, when he hasn't too much whiskey aboard ; a real jolly kind of a fellow, Init he does some [tretty mean things — things that some of the fel- h»ws won't do, bad as they are in some other ways." "And do you know a girl named Su«ie Mil- ler?" " Oh, yes, after a fashion I do : her brotlj^r an^ \ 'n 78 OVEllKULEU mW^I me used to be clniins wlion we were little cliaps : and I've drawed Susie to seliool on n sled many a time. J ain't known iier mneh of late yeai^s ; licr brother died, yon know : seems as if all the decent folks I used to know, died : but J see her at the mission when I go there, of eoni-se. I've seen ber with Bill Seber a good many times lately." ''I suppose so. fJaek, what do you think of it? If Susie were your sister, would you be willing to have lier on friendly terms with IJill, taking walks with him, and letting him see her home from places, and all that sort of thing?"' "No," said Jack, scowling fiercely. " Slie shouldn't do it if I could help it, you may be sure of that. It isn't the thing, perhaps, for one like me to be finding fau^ : but there's a differ- ence in fellows, just as sur«. s you live, even when they don't any of them amount to much. If I)i]l Seber tried to make u}) to a sister of mine, 1\\ knock him down for it." " I think I understand your feeling. Jack, and I am very much worried about Susie. She is in my class, and of course I am especially intei'ested in her. I have talked with her about this njattci. but so far it hasn't done any good. She is with liim to-night, and I tliink he liad been drinking. I did not like the way he looked or acted. It is not that Susie is especially atta^hfd to him ; but she thinks she can help hi'..' by gOi)ig .ith hini. and ought to do so. I have *rfd t-^ explain to A PftANCE TO CHOOSK. fw i til hi licr that the way to help liini wouhl l)e to show liiin thiit he ciiiiiiot have the society of a respee- tiihle girl unless lie is willing to be a respectahle young man ; but she has her heart set on reform- ing him. I am sure I wish she might ; but I ean- iiot think that that is the wise way to Jittem[)t it." .laek gave a series of low, annised ehuekles be- fore he attempted any reply. "Reform liill Seber ! " he said at last. '-That is a job I tell you I — a l)igger one than ever Susie Miller will a'jcomplish, or my name isn't Jack Taylor. I should as soon think of setting a little gray mouse to reforming a great green-eyed eat, iiiid a tiger cat at tluit. I tell you, Miss Douglass, reforming ain't such easy w^ork as some women folks, that never had any tem[)tations, think it is." The tone had changed from its half-amused note to an almost despairing gravity. Something in it suggested to (Hyde a pei-sonal (juestion. ' How is it with you. Jack? Are you getting along well ? " "No; I can't say that I nm. Fact is, I guess I am getting along about as It'.id as I can." "Oh. I am sorry co hear that! Why, the last time I heard Miss Ifainah speidx of it, she was very much encouraged about your prospects. She is a good friend to you, Jack; yon ought to try to }»l('use her." "That's so," said Jack; '"a fellow m^ver liad a l)etter friend. Hut it is hard Avork pleasing her. She wantw folks to be angels, you know ; and that I ! ft ' ''ill ?! U' !!!r ) 80 OVER RULED. isn't in my line." He laughed a little, and tried to speak in an utterly careless tone; but (ilyde detected the heartache underneath it. "What do you find so hard?" she asked en- couragingly. "Everything," said Jack in gloom; "a fellow can't turn a corner without coming across some- thing that he used to do, and would like to do. and mustn't do. It's just pull and haul yourself all the time, and nothing much to keep you back from it either. I haven't any folks, you know, to care ; if I had, it might make a big difference. There's Joe Berry, now, — that fellow I was talk- ing with to-night when you came along, — he's got a mother, as nice an old lady as ever was : she would give her two eyes to see him a "good. true man.' If I had a mother, it kind of appears to me as though I could do it ; though maybe not. When I had folks of my own, it didn't make a mite of difference ; but I'm a little different now from what I was then. Still, when there isn't anybody to care, what's the use ? " It occurred to Glyde to remind him of what lie owed to his citizenshij), and the respect that In' might win from his fellow-men, and the love that might l)e his in the future, if he made himself worthy of it ; this seemed the natural thing to say to liim. He had heard it often. Hannah Brain- lett liad earnestly tried to rnnse his manhood along all the»e lines. But something made the A CHANCE TO CHOOSE. m young girl feel like passing them, and going at once to the fountain-head. " Jack," she said, " do you remember the Lord Jesus Clirist, and what lie did in order that you might become a '•good, true man'? Do you re- lueniber that he is more interested in you than father or mother or any earthly friend could be ? How is it that you are willing to disappoint inni . For a moment Jack 'J'aylor was dumfounded ; he knew tlie Lord Jesus Christ by name certaiidy. Ill his cliildiiood he liad had some teaching con- cerning the central truths of tlie Christian reli- gion, and in later yeai"s in the Cha[)el he had, of coui-se, heard tlie sacred name in hymn and prayci' ; liut certainly he had never heard any one s})eak of Jesus Christ quite as (ilyde Doughiss (H(i. He looked around liim lialf in superstition. He was conscious of a curious sensation, as if a tiiinl person had come (piietly up in tlie moonlight, and it was lu^ whom (Jlyde was introducing. "• I don't know as I understand,"' he said after a moment, in a tone that had a touch of awe. '• He doesn't expect anything of me, of course, nor care. Why should lie?" " () Jack I Why shouldn't he ? Isn't he inter- ested in manhood to a degree that no one else can lie"' Di^su't he understand as none of us. if we ' ' our utmost, can understand, the possibilities of leivl manhood? Doesn't he know what we could i .i"i- -;.:P ' ::4; In p '^^1 h V! i \ S< " I m\'\ h'^ 82 OVERRULED. Ill kl accomplish in the woHd if we wouhl? It is all out before him as a map might be to us ; he sees the roads that uuiy be taken, as well as those that have been. Moreover, he sees beyond this world, and knows tlie possibilities that there are for ns in that other world where none of the obstacles now in the way of what men call success come in to interrupt. Don't you believe that he is deeply, awfuUy interested in what you will decide to do?" "• U'hat's a queer way to i)ut it ! " said Jack. '• I never heard anything- like it before in mv life, lint now, Miss Dimglass, I just want t(t ask you one (question. If he is so awfully inter- ested, wliy divesn't he do things foi- a fellow'.' I don't mean anything disrespectful ; I s'pose I don't understand how to talk about such things, but I couldii'l liclj) getting tliai off. Of coinse I understand that (iod can do anything he is a mind to; and if he carcrl foj- a fellow like me, in the way yon say, why, I should think he'd make tilings easy foi- me. Kind of niakc me get into the right road, you know, and stay theic whetlici' I wanted to or not. Id do it in a min- ute for any chap that I was interested in, if I could." "No," said (ilyde positively: "he will never do that for yon. Wlien he made you, lie put a man's soul within you, and arrangetl that yon slionld hiive n man's possibilities. lie has given \()U a chance to clif)ose for yourself." ' ^1 ' Ft A CHANCE TO CHOOSK. 89 " Now, .see lieie," interrupted Jack, speaking almost fiercely, '' folks talk about (iod iKMUg a fiither to tliein. Down there at the hall the other iiii^dit that man talked about the vei-se : ' Like as a lather pitieth his children;' and he said (iod was the ])est and wisest father, and all that. Now, I'm not very wise nor very good, the land knows I but suppose 1 had a little boy, — I had a little chap once, Miss Douglass; lie didn't live but three weeks. I have sometimes thought if he had, everything might have been different ; but he tlidn't. Suppose he had. If I had the power to take that little fellow, and put him on the right road, and keep him there, tlicre with locked doors and ^vindows grated, so that it would not be possible for him to escape. \'itU /'Oiihi keep him from a good many wrong foiids ))y tjjat means, couldn't )'ou ? lie would not Ik- ii-miyU'd by gaml>ling-saloons nor drinking- saloons ; he woul^l not staiid around on street cor- nel's, nor mingle with men who used evil words, — oh, there are a hundred wrong rr>fids from uliit'h you could surely shield him ! Would y " you .' '* Xo more I wouldn't," said Jack frankly. " But, after all, Miss Dougliss, it ain't ])i' sible for f(tlks to think,— for nie jh least,— to think of (iod caring for nie like that. If I could once feel as though he did, why — it seems to me " — lie stoppi'd abrupily ; his voice had begun to tremble, and he did not choose to show his iieart even to this simple-hearted girl. "If you could believe that (iod loved you as a father, you think yon would try to please him ; is that it. Jack? I vvill tell you what I wish you would do. You have never read the Bible much, I suppose, — you have a Bible of your own, haven't vou? I wish you would read in it the story of Jesus Christ on earth. Head what a lonely, friendless life he lived here, and how his followers treated him, — the very best of them. In the hour of his greatest human need they all forsook him and fled. Worse than that, one disowned him, de- clured with oaths that he never knew him I Read how his enemies mocked and struck him, and spit on him, and pierced him with thorns, and how in iigony unimaginable he died at last on that awful cross ; then ask yourself why he bore it all, why (iod permitted it. If the reason lie has himself given should prove to be the true one, because he 'so loved' (ilyde Douglass and Jack Taylor that he 'gave his only Son ' that they might have eter- W\. f 1 I J 1 i. i 1 1 1 p .k ''■SI * !' '^^ -.1 ^M ' !. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) I .^f'^ ^4 v^ 1.0 ^1^ m 1.1 i!.25 ■llBU fflJ4l 1.6 6" '/3 ^ ^14 >> > y /A r ?J' Photographic ^Sciences Corporation 23 WBT MAIN STMIT WIBSTIR,N.Y. 14SM (71«)»72-4S03 4s^^^ ^. <\ <^ .;'!| m r [f * >. <', 88 OVERRULED. I ,!:, I ■}■"■ Nothing more utterly cast down and discour- aged than Jack's tone can he imagined. It put energy into Glyde's. '^ Jack, I know what you need r you have yot to have the help of the Lord Jesus Christ, or the iight will he too much for you. I know somethinjj of how you have felt all these months, just as though you were on slippery ground, and might fall any minute. Don't you see that you need to get on solid ground ? Why don't you tr}- that way, if you are in earnest? and I helieve you are. Give youi-self up to tlie Lord Jesus Christ, and foilow his lead. Tliere is entire manliness in thai coui-se. Do you undei"stand what I mean ? That hoy of yours ahout whom we liave heen talking, suppose lie were a young man, and you were his good, wise father. You would not order him what to do and where to go ; you would recognize his manhood and his rights. lUit suppose he came to you saj'ing, ' Father, I want you to direct me ; I realize that you are wiser than I, and I desire ahove all things to he guided i)y 3'ou." Wouldn't you do the hest you could for him? The illustration isn't a good one ; it is too weak. Ikit don't you know. Jack, that Jesus has undertaken to meet us more than half-way? He offers to make a contract with us; our part is to give oui-selves to him." Jack listened in silence. When the earnest voice ceased, he still kept silence, feeling that he had no words for such a suhject. After a minute 1 1 lit ' PIVOTS. 89 Glyfle began again anxiously, '' Don't you under- stand, Jack? 1 am afraid I haven't made it clear. I don't know how to talk about these things very well. I wish you knew Marjorie Edmonds; she could tell you just how it is ; or Mr. Maxwell, if he were only here." It struck the young Chris- tian worker suddenly as a strange thing that in all her circle of acquaintances, many of whom were membei-s of the church, she could think of only these two who would be likely to be able to direct Jack clearly. Oh, there was Dr. Ford, of course ; but young men like Jack were afraid (»f clergymen. She had tried t<> pei-suade some of the bovs at the mission to talk with Dr. Ford, but had not succeeded. " I don't know enough to undei-stand such things," Jack said humbly. " But, Jack, it is all very simple. Listen : suppose you had a friend, — a strong, wise friend, one who never had done, so far as you could see, other than just right, and sup^iose it were possible for him to go with you wherever you went, and stay with you day and night, directing you just what to do, and what not to do; su[)pose he would promise to do this for you, provided you would put yourself under his care, would you do it?" " I reckon I'd try it," said Jack promptly, " if I could find any such fellow on this cre9,ted earth ; but I couldn't, Miss Douglass." %^ 'H'S I'f ? o •li ( . \\ ;^i -isfS ifrrTr' OVEIillULKI). hi ''Never mind that. Vou would know just liow to do sueh a thing, wouhln'fc you ? You would say — r wonder what you would say ? " " Why," said Jack, growing interested in the supposition, '* maybe J should say something like this : ' If you are willing and able to do all that for me, I'm your chap ; lead on.' " "Very well. Don't you see what I mean? Jesus Christ is both able and willing to do all that for you ; he has promised to do it. You can say, ' I'm your chap,' to him as well as to a man walking by your side. Tiie question is, will you do it ? " I have given you only the human side of the story. There is a divine side. That good, wise friend whom we have been imagining, might do a great deal for you, but he could not change a thought of your heart, no matter how much you might wish him to do so ; but the Lord Jesus can take from you all desire after the wrong road. More than, that, he can blot out all your past sins, — blot them oiit^ Jack ; it is his own word, — and give you peace and victory all along the road." l$y this time they had reached her fathers door; and there was no opportunity for Jack to reply, even had he felt inclined. He received her hearty thanks for his protection in awkward si- lence, then, turning, walked swiftly homeward with eyes bent on the ground. He passed sever.d saloons without so much as noticing that he did I'lVOTS. iU SO. Strange, new words liiul l)een sjKjken to liini that night. Hannah Branilett was ji Christian woman, and iier daily life was a constant strnggle '\ot to dis- honor the religion she professed. She i)raye(l daily for Jack Taylor, sometimes with strong crying and teal's ; and she believed that if he were ever to he a saved man, the power of (iod nuist save him. Vet she had not known how to talk with him ahout these things. An almost overpowering timidity had taken possession of her whenever sK ' attempted to speak to him of the way of salvation. She had struggled with the timidity, and had tried more than once to point him to Christ. That is, she had told him that his heart was '* un regenerate," and that he needed to be " converted," and that nothing but a "• real down- right converaion " would ever make him sure of himself, even for this life. Poor Jack had been willing to believe that he needed everything ; he had even reached the point where he was willing to "get religion," and "stand" the mockery of the " fellows." To this end he had gone several times to the week-night services at the mission, and listened patiently to talk that was as Sanskrit to him, because the speakers either did not realize liis depths of ignorance on such topics, or did not understand how to reach his level. For the most part they used the accepted terms, the "shibbo- leths" if one may so speak, of religion — more ;, ■ "I i'':m M 111: Jl llli 'i hi" !!ll n OVEUUITLKI). wisely, it is true, than Hannah Hran.lett in licr inexperience and timklity liad been able to, and they reached and helped many. But Jack in liis early life had learned only words and names, and in later years had not come in contact even with these ; he did not understand. It had been given to Glyde Douglass to reveal to his astonished ears the simplicity on the human side of that wondrous plan of salvation. And then wps Jack Taylor, if he had but underatood it, at the most perilous point in his life's history. There had been made plain to him the fact of two distinct and ever sepa- mting roads, either of which he could choose if he would. Nay, having admitted that, and hidden be- bind the apparently humble statement that he had chosen wrong, and must abide by his decision, sud- denly had been revealed a Friend so infinite that He could not only guide and guard for the future, but could blot out the past. In short, Jack Taylor understood that he might begin again. He had helped to make plain the revelation by his own admissions. Had he not distinctly said that if such a human friend could be found lie reckoned he would follow him ? He knew, as well as the best-taught regular attendant at church and Sabbath-school could know it, that here was a chancG for him, an offer as it were for his soul. What would Jack Taylor say in reply? Meantime, what had become of lb; it brother-in- law whose absence had occasioned Glyde Douglass r!VOTS. 98 so much anxiety and embarrassment? He had given a somewhat reluctant consent to her peti- tion to b^ called for on his way home from the meeting of the Library Association. It is true, it would be but two blocks out of his way, o^* at least would have been had he gone to the Association meeting. He had not chosen to explain to Glyde that he did not intend to be present at the meet- ing, having dropped his connection with it, .as he had with most things of like character. To do him justice, it was not the walk or the trouble to which he objected, but the fear of meeting some of the mission-workera, who had urged him ear- nestly and frequently to help them in their efforts to save men. The harassed man had pleaded all the excuses he could think of except the true one, and felt that he wanted to hear no more about it. Still, Glyde had been very urgent ; and being not willing to give the real reasons for refusing, he could think of no others, and had yielded. But at the appointed time he had been so en- grossed with thought and care, that all memory of his young sister-in-law waiting alone in a part of the town that ladies did not like to frequent unattended, escaped him. What was the occupa- tion that so engrossed him ? It did not appear on the surface. He was locked and bolted into his own home study, bat not so much as a scrap of paper was l)efore him. He sat at his desk, elbows leaning on it, his face held between his two hands. is * - hi I m t 1" km III m ovehhulf:d. his eyes fixed on space, and so sat for hours. If any one could have tohl him that he was reviewinjr his life, he would probahly have contradicted tho statement. Yet in a certain sense this was true. At least a limited panorama of what he fancied lu; had been, moved solemnly before him, strangely intermixed with i)icture8 of what he might have been, and would have been, if — Perhaps it is true to the experience of human nature that not many sadder pictures confront the lives of men than the one suggested by the hack- neyed (juotation, ''It might have been." Yet whether or not such a retrospection shall be profit- able is often determined by the clause connected with that potent word, " if." " If I had taken that turn to the right instead of to the left," says the dreamer, *" all might have been well." Per- haps he is correct in his statement, and perhaps it is the weakest sentimentiility to allow himself to brood over it ; or it may be the truest wisdom to hold his mind steadily to that view. How shall he determine which ? Hut that is a very easy question. Think, my friend. Is that turn to the right possible now, after the lapse of years ? Put- ting aside the failures, the heartaches, the blotches that can never be ertised because of the mistake made then, will the future be improved by your making the turn now, though it may be hard and involve much sacrifice ? Thei? hold your heart and your conscience steadily to that point until PIVOTS. 95 your manhood rises to the height of the sacrifice involved, and says, "I will do it now.'" If, on the contrary, the turn once made, however foolish it may have been, is one that ought to remain set- tled, if the decision cannot l)e reversed without sin, close the eyes of your soul to the alluring " might have been," ask God to forgive you, and move steadily forward in the path that is. What, think you, was Ralph Bramlett's most seriims "if" in the review that he was taking? — " If I had been true to the voice of my conscience away back there in my childhood when I decided for what I ivanted to do, instead of what I knew I ought?" "If I had been true to the vows that I took upon me publicly in the church of God ? " There were S3 many such "ifs" that might have been wisely considered, and that would have sug- gested the wisdom of making haste to cover the mistakes as much as might be by the decision of the present. None of them presented themselves. Pity the miserable weakness, even while you de- spise the wickedness of the man who could hold his haggard face in his hands, and say, " The mis- take of my life was in marrying that girl ! If I liad married Marjorie, all would have been well with me." And the woman whom, unurged by anything but his pride and his passing fancy he had asked to be his wife, was locked outside, and sat brushing away the dreary teal's over the thought that she was locked out and alone ! v'lSi OVERKULED. !M''' ■! By this it is not meant that Ralph Bramlett spent the hours in staring at that one regret ; there were questions having to do with tiie imnie- (liate present that inigiit well hold his thoughts. Those unpaid hills were haunting him day and night, were accumulating with every passing day. Some of them he did not know how to ward off longer; and they were bills that he did not keep in the secretary to which he had proudly pointed his wife. He owed many hundreds of dollars; but none of the debts gave him that sense of over- powering shame that he felt when he looked at a page of his private memoranda, and read there cer- tain figures and initials and dates that only he could undei-stand. The fii-st one was dated nearly a year before. How vividly he remembered the day. He had stood in the hall waiting for his chief, and, being in excellent humor, had chatted pleasantly with the bell-boy, who had just been paid his month's wages, and who confided to the handsome bookkeeper, who seemed to him like a great man, that he did not know how to keep his money safely. He wanted to save it until he had enough to buy his mother a house, so she need not pay rent any more. His mother did not need it now, and she wanted him to put it in the bank, and keep it until he got enough to buy a suit of clothes ; but he meant to do without clothes, and surprise her some day ; only he did not know how to invest his money in a way to make it earn a lot MVOTS. 97 more. Ualpli luul Irtu'ii uiuiistMl with tlit; Ijoy's mixture of igiiomnce aiul l)riglitness, and pleased with his deference to himself, and had offered in i((K»d faith to iKJconie his banker, since there was iKjt a savini^s-hank within convenient reach, and pay him eijifht per cent interest until such time as lie ciMild do better. The hoy had l»een delighted with the offer, and felt himself in some way immediately connected with the great Hrm of Snyder, Snyder, and C-o. He had regularly brought his savings each month to his new friend, until there had accumulated something over fifty dollai's. And now a dark (lay had come in the boy's life. His mother had fallen sick, and the money that was to have bought her a home was needed to pay the doctor's bill and furnish nourishing food. Five times had the l)ell-boy waylaid his banker with anxious face and great troubled eyes, only to be put off witli very small sums and promises. In a fit of indig- nation with his wife, the young man had, at her complaining, emptied his pocket-book on her dress- ing-table, and had actually but a two-dollar bill to depend upon until his next quarter's salary fell due. It was horrible to remember that when it came, not a penny of it was honestly his. The bell-boy's need, and his inability to meet it, accen- tuated the young man's misery to a surprising de- gree. Curiously enough, he, who was not as a rule attracted to young people, had taken an un- n II ^-^ • 1 , ',«»k| )i ■M iii'i 98 OVERUITLED. accountable fancy to the boy, and had given him from time to time much wholesome advice, as well as shown ^-m many kindnesses. The result was that the mctuly little fellow had given his whole heart to tiie bookkeeper, and believed that all goodness as well as all wisdom w'as embodied in him. It was maddening to Kalph Bramlett's pi-ide to have to l)e lowered in the esteem of this wise- eyc'l boy ; yet he had not a friend of whom he was walling to try to borrow fifty dollars. -i "WHAT IF I SHOULD — »» 99 ::im "WHAT IF 1 SHOULD >» CITAPTKR IX. ' m BUT it was more than the past with its " might have been " that was torturiiig Ralph Bram- lett : the immediate future must be met. Out of the chaos of embarrassment and bewiklerment that the future showed, stared one definite proposition ; but it wjis of so strange a character, that, if it re- (juired any studying at all, it is no wonder it required long studying. There had been a time when Ralph Bramlett would have turned scornfully from such a propo- sition, and felt that it needed no consideration. It had come to him from one of the junior mem- bers of the firm of Snyder, Snyder, & Co. It appeared that that gentleman owned a valuable corner-lot in the town where Ralph lived. The building had been occupied for yeai-s as a drug- stf)re ; but the prosperous druggist had lately died, and his business had been closed up by his heii-s. The building had now been unoccupied for eevei-al months. It had been the opinion of the owner, even before the drug-g'^ore closed its doors, that tliat corner afforded special advantages for tlie % '•11 'Wi i.' 9^ni 'i- ■,: i')^M ii Um^^K m 100 ftVEtlilttLEt). Mf' ill mi m Mm liii' llli setting-up of a first-class retail liquor-store. He did not use the word "saloon;" the phrase "re- tail liquor-store " had a better sound to him. He proceeded to explain that there was decided need for a business of the sort in that end of the town. Several estimable families, some of his own acquaintances indeed, lived in that vicinity, and doubtless often found it inconvenient to go so far as they were now compelled to for supplies. He had been spoken to more than once concerning the excellent site that corner would be for a retail store. " In short," the philanthropic gentleman had said, " I am really growing anxious about that part of the town ; my early home was there, Mr. Brani- lett, and of course I feel a special interest in the place. I liave been approached several times by pereons who, to speak frankly, I am not willing to see established in such a business in that vicinity. I have been offered very fine rentals for the build- ing ; but thus far I have held off, making all sorts of excuses. Of coui-se I cannot continue such a policy very long. You know, without my men- tioning it, that it makes all the difference in tlie world what sort of men take hold of this business. The men who have come to me are well enough in their way, and would undoubtedly have paid the rent, — though I mentioned a very large figure to them to help me in getting rid of them, — but they wei-e not the class of persons to establish on that corner: pei^sons who lacked judgment, you under- " What tF t sHoUld — ? M lol stand, and forethought; men who wouki be in danger of consulting their pocket-books instead of principle. I'm afraid they would have been as willing to sell to minoi-s, for instance, or to hal)it- ual drunkards, as to responsible pei^sons. I felt that they would be almost sure to get themselves and me into trouble. There are people living all al)out that region, who, if the business were con- ducted in accordance with not only the letter but the spirit of the law, would be glad to countenance it, even though they do not themselves u'se the goods ; whereas, if another sort of person should take hold of it, those very men would make trouble. " I am sure you undei-stand the peculiarities of the situation ; and to come to the point at once, Mr. Bramlett, as we are both busy men, it has oc- curred to me to definitely propose that you occupy the said corner youreelf. Not in pei-son, of course, in a way to take any considerable amount of your time — we consider your services here much too valuable to be willing to give them up. What we thought was, that we could supply you with a man here to do a good deal of the office drudgery that now occupies you, and let you have leisure enough to look after this other business. You could se- cure good, reliable men to do your bidding, you being merely the brains of the establishment. Men of that kind can easily be found, who are capable, and entirely willing to do as they are told, who are yet not exactly the ones to shoulder responsi- Ml If II 102 ovRnnrT.ED. bility and do as they please, yon nndei^stand. T liave been talking it over with the other nienilKMs of the lirm, and they are willing to make the ar- rangement that I have suggested. I may say that they are more than willing. The fact is, ]Mr. Bramlett, we are all interested in you as a rising young man, and would like to do you a good turn. — put you in a way to make more money than you can on a mere salary. You know, of coui-se, what terms we could offer you for goods — at least, you know the usual wholesale rates. I do not hesitate to say, that, if it should come to an actual business transaction, we should be ready to make even l)et- ter terms, on the score of personal friendship. "I suppose I hardly need say that I know of at least a score of fine young men who stand ready to accept such an offer as I am ruaking, but I haven't felt inclined to make it to them. 1 don't know but I am something of a cr-ank, — my friends tell me that 1 am, — but I am really very particular indeed as to who I put in my buildings. I want not only reliable men in the ordinary ac- ceptation of those words, but men of thoroughly conscientious views. Men, in short, who will not only undei-stand the law, but abide by it in every particular. I am a law-abiding citizen myself, and want no underhanded proceedings. There is ii sense in which you might look upon it, — and I confess I have thought of it more in that light perhaps than any other, — as your opportunity for ! M. ** WHAT IP I SHOULD — ? ♦♦ 103 doing a good thing for tlie conimunity in which you live. A good citizen is always glad of such oi)[)ortunities of coui'se. I am sure you can see what danger might result from putting an innnoral man, for instance, in such a place, — a man who would sell to anybody who would bring him the money, without regard to whether rv not he ougiit to he trusted with the goods. I think myself that you could not serve that part of the town better, perhaps, than by controlling the business carefully. " Such a Imsiness as oura is of coui-se capable of doing great harm ; in the hands of unprincipled men, whose only object in life is to make money, it does do harm. I have never shut my eyes to that fact, and trust I never shall. It is because I judge you to be entirely capable of managing the business, not only in a way to be entirely sat- isfactory to 3'ourself, but to your townspeople, that I have made the proposition I have. I do not want an answer to-day; take time, hy all means, to consider it, Mr. Bramlett. There, by the way, is our private price-list ; the second line of figures represents the ruling prices at retail. If you need to refresh your memory, and wish to make any es- timates of probable income, that will save you time perhaps. I ought to say before this interview is closed, that, as the building in question is not fitted up for the purpose proposed, I had thought, if you took hold of it, to suggest that I advance you, say a thousand dollars; you to spend as much or as ;. . . n ' v'm /hi*! §■ ,,JI^ i, & I'ZwLwr m "fS Hi m f U 104 oVEimuLEn. little of it as seemed to yon well, and fit up tlic place to suit your own ideas. I want the whole thing to be attractive, and entirely in keeping with the surroundings. The whole sum might or miglit not be required, you could hardly tell for several months perhaps; but, of course, whatever was placed in the building as a fixture would beloiio- to me, to be paid for out of the fund. The balance, if there were any, could \)e handed back to me at any time, or included in the rent. You see how entirely I trust you ; that sort of proposition would not be made to many men, I assure you." Then the philanthropist had sat back in his chair, and beamed a benevolent smile upon the young man whom he was willing, even anxious, to set up in business. Ralph Bi-amlett had by no means listened in silence to this long-drawn-out proposition, but had from time to time interjected words expressive of surprise or bewilderment, of which the junior part- ner had taken no notice, except to repeat and try to make clearer some of his points. While he talked, Ralph had had, as in a vision, a view of himself standing there, say three years before, listening to such a proposition. A faint smile hovered over his face as he thought of the in- dignant way in which he would have declined an offer that connected him in any way with the business of rumselling. But the smile was one of contempt for the fanatical notions of a boy; he '*WHAT IF I SHOULD »» 106 was a man now, and such narrow-minded, whole- sale condemnations as those in which he used to indulge did not become him. He sat down to his work, after being cour- teously dismissed by his chief — at least, he sat before his desk, but his thoughts were on what lie had just heard ; especially were they concerned with what he admitted was a new idea; namely, that a man could serve his townspeople by con- ducting a liquor-store I However, why not ? Of course a thoroughly well-managed liquor-store, that not only never infringed upon the law, but was in a sense a law unto itself, having a care bow it dispensed dangerous beverages even to those whom the law recognized as fitted to buy them, would be infinitely better for the neighbor- hood than one of the ordinary kind. The idea was not only new, but interesting. All day long, though occupied with even an unusual amount of business, he had kept going this second train of thought. For the first two or three houre he had assured himself, that although there certainly was good sense in some of the ar- guments advanced by the junior partner, still he, Ralph Bramlett, could never have anything to do with the retail liquor business. The Bramletts for generations back had been too pronounced on the tempemnce question, and his father had suf- fered too keenly because of his i)resent position, for him to entertain any idea of going farther. ' t^: I f : \t Ml Tf 106 OVERRULED. ! Moreover, he admitted that he liimself shrank from it; that is, he told himself that he was not equal to the Scacrifice, although good could un- doid)tedly he done hy preventing evil. But he, a meml)er of the church, a memher of a well-known family, could not place himself in such a question- able position. He might talk until he was gray, and yet not make clear to certain people the arguments that had been brought to bear upon him that morning. There, for instance, was his sister Hannah, who had no head for argument, and was as set in her Avay as self-opinionated old maids generally were ; she would be sure to give him no peace of his life if she imagined he thought of such a business. Yet he had immediately curled his lip over that objection, and reminded himself that Hannah had enough to do at present to take care of her own reputation, without concerning hei'self about other people's. But there were othei-s. What would Dr. Ford, for instance, think of the junior part- ner's arguments, he wondered. And what, above all others — oh! it wouldn't do, of coui-se ; he wasn't considering it for a mo- ment. Then he took pencil and paper, and fell to calculating what the profits would really be, and exclaimed over their enormity. He had l)een con- vereant with wholesale prices for several yeai-s, but had never before given his attention to the retail trade. Then there was that hint about " WHAT IF I SHOULD »» 107 special reductions on the score of fiien(lshi[). It certainly was a way to make money; and money would undoubtedly be made on that corner. Why not by him ? Did it make such a tremendous dif- ference, after all, — except to the i)ei'son who re- ceived it, — into whose ^;ocket the money went ? Yes, of couree it made a difference, — here was a chance for that new and most alluring argument to present itself again, — if the money went into the pockets of an honorable man, one who would under no circumstances allow his goods to be sold to pei-sons incapable of judging for themselves what was good for them, it certainly ought to make a great difference in the morality of the community. The argument looked clearer than it had before. Why did not those fanatical people who were always prating about the evils of the saloon study up this phase of the subject, and, until they could do something better, try to get respectable moral men put in charge of saloons? Yes, he was actually so befogged that he used the phrase " respectable moral men " in such connec- tion, and failed tQ see its absurdity ! Y^et why not? Had not the junior partner who represented millions, and undei-stood business and respectabil- ity, used the same ? When Ralph Bramlett walked toward his train that evening, he was saying to himself, '' 'J'here woidd be no occasion for my name to appear. All 'he wants of me is to be responsible for the rent, ■PM m it •1 M4^ 108 OVERRULED. and look after the men whom I put in charge. It is no more, in a sense, than I am doing now." He had by no means tokl himself that he would undertake the work; but he took his seat in the car still studying the profits that might be made, and the feasibility of entirely suppressing his name, thus silencing foolish tongues. There came and sat beside him one of the work- ers at the Carnell-street Mission, who began to tell of the wonders that were taking place there. Did he remember Harvey Barnes who used to be a schoolmate of his? He knew of coui-se how low the poor fellow had gone ? a regular gutter drunk- ard. But he was making an honest effort to reform. He signed the pledge nearly two weeks ago ; and last night stayed to the after-meeting, and not only talked with one of the workers, but actually went down on his knees and prayed. " Think of Harvey Barnes irraying^ Bramlett ! The age of miracles is not past, you see." The Christian worker had a more definite aim than merely to tell good news. He proceeded to say that they had been plannii^ how best to lu'l}* tide the young man over the dangerous weeks which were now before him ; and somebody had re- membered that he was an old schoolmate of Kalpli Bramlett's, and used to be much under his influ- ence. And somebody else had wondered if Kiili)li would not be willing to take hold with them, inid try to help his old friend. ■1 ■ I m^ Hk KOf MJ a I'Al'KK THAT STAJJUKU HiM. 'm§ i ! ; i : j ' 'i-' \ » ■ t' ' ' ( ■ i h \ 1 .f m iW 1 J 1 iK] 1 0'#s ITT n ill llii i m *' WHAT IK I SHOULD — ? 100 Ralph was interested and tonclied. He remem- bered Harvey Barnes when he was tlie best scholar in their class. He had gone down rapidly, an in- herited taint, people said. Ralph had lost sight of iiim for years ; hadn't he lieen out of town ? Yes, he used to have a good deal of influence over him. lie recollected that he once told Harvey he was too easily influenced, and would never amount to anything, because he had no mind of his own ; and he had replied with his genial laugh, " I'll let you be mind for me, Ralph ; you may go ahead, and ril follow in your footsteps. You are such a proper fellow that the road will be sure to end right." Certainly he would like to help Harvey Barnes. It must be interesting to help people ; it was what he had meant to do when he united with the church. He parted with the mission-worker thoughtfully, having promised that he would do what he could for Harvey, and added a sort of half promise to come to the mission some evening. He was silent about his engagement to meet his sister-in-law there that evening and take her home, because, as a matter of fact, he did not mean to be there until the meeting was safely over. His half promise to attend the meeting had not meant so much that he cared to emphasize it by appearing at once. Yet as he walked from the station with his mind full of the tender thoughts that the news of his old schoolmate had awakened, he wondered how it would seem to start afresh, and carry out some ' k II ■ rfi no OVKRKULKD. of the plans tluit had oiifc heen I118. Estelle, he reminded himself, had not been interested in that sort of thing, or it wonld have made a difference. Hut perhaps she would he willing to go even t(» the mission now, if he were with her. And then he admitted that he had not spent nuicli of his time with her, and that he had been out of sorts that morning, and si)oke)i somewhat roughly ; hut she had certainly been very aggravating. As he let himself in at his own door, he said, still to that interesting pei"Son, himself, '* What if I should suri)rise everybody with an entirely new departure ? " If AN ANNIVERSARY. Ill CHAPTER X. AN ANNIVERSARY. OX the hall table had lain three lettei's for him. Every one of them contained bills, — two for much larger amounts than he had expected ; one was presented for the third time with a peremptory demand for immediate attention. He threw them down with a sense of iiaving been injured. Wliy should bills be allowed to force their ugly faces upon him just as he was meditating radical changes for the better? He went on to the dining-room. He was later than usual ; those private calcula- tions had consumed time. Mre. Bramlett sat alone at the head of her table. She looked up at his entrance with an injured air. '' Here I am eating my solitary dinner ; it is the third time this week. It is very pleasant to be married, and have a house of one's own where one can enjoy solitude ! Your friend ^Nlarjorie wanted to know if I had become used to it. I told her I was becoming used to most things, and so I am. Although I will confess that, since this is my birth- day, I did think perhaps you would make an effort to reach home at least at your usual early hour I " [ «i tit . n't ' 112 OVERRULED. Mi Pirrni ; i isl: i til ' Sucli had been his greeting. He had given a slight start at the mention of the birthday ; he liad forgotten it. Bnt he told himself drearily that it was just as well, since he had no money for birth- day offerings. He looked at his wife critically as he took his seat opposite her, and wondered if it would l)e worth while to tell her some of the thoughts awa- kened in him by tiie news from the Mission. She had changed a good deal since their marriage ; she was by no means so pretty as she used to he. He was not sure but there had come to be a look of habitual gloom on her face. No, that was not quite fair; only a few evenings before she had met him with smiles and winning words, and had tried to rest and comfort him when he complained of weariness. His conscience reminded him that he would have none of her comfort. But that, he hastened to tell himself, was because he had been so tried by business cares. Any woman of sense ought to expect such times. If she were in a like gentle mood this evening, she would find lie could meet her half way. But nothing was more evident than that no such mood possessed her. What if he should himself take the initiative? Suppose he should remark that he was sorry to have been late, especially on her birthday. One wonders that it did not occur to him to be amazed over the fact that such a commonplace courtt'sy as that would have been unusual. Furthermore, AN ANNIVEUSAIIV. 113 what if he should ask her to walk down with him hy and by to the Mission to meet Glyde? He might tell her about Harvey Barnes ; she used to know Harvey, and would no doubt be interested in hearing of his new departure. These thoughts passed rapidly through his mind ; and he opened his lips to put some of them into words, just as his wife broke forth, — " If you have nothing whatever to say, Mr. Bram- lett, now" that you have come, I may as well begin at once upon tlie interesting items that have been dinged into my eai-s this afternoon. Your immac- ulate sister Hannah has been here again, giving me a benefit. I do not know wh}" she does not choose an hour when you are present ; she talks about you continually. She is terribly exercised, let me tell you, about your reputation. She has heard, from I don't know how many sources, that you are hopelessly in debt. According to her ideas the business men meet on the street cornel's and discuss the alarming nature of your affairs. If you have any reason to give why you do not pay that odious Dunlap, for instance, I wish you would rush right down there and tell Hannali ; slie will proclaim it from the housetop befoi'e to- morrow night. At least, she will mention it to tliat confidential friend of hers. Jack Taylor, and lie will see that it is spread abroad." Was it wonderful that Ralph Bramlett, >jeing the man he was, lost every vestige of a desire to ^ 1?" il « -5 I Jtff 114 ovKimrLED. s})eak kind and conciliating words to liis Avife? His reply was icy in its dignity, — '*I wonder, Mrs. Bramlett, if you could explain why you consider it necessary whenever you men- tion my sister to insult her ? " '*• Insult your sister ! That is an exquisite sug- gestion. It is not I, let me tell you, who have lielped to place your sister's name in the mouth of every street loafer. Instead, I have done my utmost, not only to warn her, but to rouse her brother, in time to save her reputation. Is not this true? Don't talk to me about insults. It is your wife who has been insulted, I can assure you. If you had heard Hannah's words to me this afternoon, even you might have been roused to at least a show of interest." But why soil these pages by recounting the words that followed from both husband and wife ? They were not many. Almost immediately fol- lowing the last sentence recorded, Mi's. Bramlett remembered the possibility of the girl, Lena, being within hearing. Therefore, while she said a num- ber of stinging things, she lowered her voice so that had Lena's ear been even at the keyhole, she would not have been much enlightened. As for the liusband, he was never loud-voiced ; strong excitement had the effect, with him, of quieting any outward manifestation, so that his tones were even lower than ordinary when he had anything particularly trying to say. AN ANN [ VERS AUY. 11 •) He arose from the table before the second eonrse had heeu completed, and, withont a word of excnse or apology, retired to his i)rivate room, leaving his wife to control face and voice as well as she could, and exi^lain to Lena that they did not care for any dessert that night. Mr. lirandett had been too tired to wait for it ; and as for hei-self, having been in the house all day, she had not much appetite for anything. Then she, too, made a precipitate retreat to the darkness of her own room. It was after this home scene had been concluded, that Ralph Bramlett allowed himself to bow his head on his hands, and groan out to his heart that mis- eral)le '' It might have been I " Not in any sense did he consider himself to blame. Had he not (oi.ie home with the intention of turning over an entire new leaf? He called it now a ■ I ♦ I', i 5 'I ^ w I [ .'?» m h 1! I .1 "•■31 if u I i^} 1 120 OVKIlUULKD. pared certain dishes that sjje l^new he enjoyed ; she had arraved herself in tlie dress that he used to like, and before his plate had placed a tiny bou- quet of the flowera that were his favorites. And there was the birthday cake, over which she had hovered even while it was baking, to see that it was done to just the right shade of perfection, that he had not even waited to see. Oh, why had everything gone as it had, when she had worked so hard and tired herself out just to please him I Why had Plannah Bramlett come that afternoon of all othere, to thrust those wretched pin-points of criticism into her very flesh ? The idea of Hannah daring to hint that she was afraid his wife's expensive tastes had brought trouble upon Ralph ! and pointing, in proof of her charge, to certain expensive articles with which she had had nothing whatever to do, — articles that had been Ralph's gifts to her in those early days of their married life, that now sometimes seemed centuries away ! The idea of Hannah Bramlett finding fault with he7' because they paid such an enormous rent, and lived in so large a house — an "absurdly large house for two people ! " What lousiness was it of hei-s how many rooms they had ? And why should she suppose that Ralph had had nothing to do with the choice? Why should Ralph allow his sister, who was disgracing hereelf, whose name was tossed about carelessly by the street gossips as ''Jack "1i!?"™ AN ANNIVERSARY. 121 Taylor's girl," to come and force her critieisms on her? To come, too, in the name of affection for Ralph ! To look distressed while she repeated the vile slander, — brought to her, probably, by- Jack Taylor, — that he not only did not pay liis debts, but did not mean to pay them ; and was borrowing money of poor people who trusted him, and deceiving them with the story that he had in- vested it for them ! She, the wife, would have thrown anything she could reach at the head of any pereon who had dared to come to her with such tales ; but Hannah had only wiped her eyes, and looked the picture of misery, and l)egged her, Estelle, to change her manner of living, ar.d re- duce their expenses, and help poor Ralph out of tills terrible embarrassment. Mi's. Bramlett, as she thought it all over, har- dened her heart, not only against Hannah, but against her husband. 100 J. t^ad OVEKUrLKD. CHAPTKR XI. A SKKIKS OF MLUNDKRS. FLVNTIMK \{d\])h Hramlctt, unmindful of I'JL tlie distressed wateher at tlie window, strode off down the street, ])ent on die desire of liis lieart. VViien was Halpli Hrandett bent on anytliing else save liis own desires? It was now some months sinee Mrs. Edmonds and her daughter had reached home ; and Marjorie, if slie had not made much headway in the work that she wanted to aceomj)lish, had at least seen lUore or less of Ralph. This, however, liad been the result ai)[)arently of accident, certainly with- out design on her part. To all appearance, Ralph was a more regular church-goer than his sister-in- law had led her to suppose ; and invariably he and his wife joined her mother and herself for the home- ward walk, keeping directly behind them, Ralph, at least, eager to enlist them in conversation. Sev- eral times it had occurred that hi crossing the streets the couples would of necessity become separated ; and again, without apparent design, it would be found that when they came together Ralph was beside Marjorie, leaving his wife to A SERIES OF BLUNDEUS. i2n walk witli Ikm* motlier. Tliis urmii^niuMit tried Mi-s. Kdiuoiids more tliaii slic woidd luivo cared to oxju'ess, hut it was ap[)an'ntly so purely an aeei- (lent that nothiuj^ couhl he said. Then, too, the nuniher of times in which Mar- jorie had met Ualpli liramlett on tlie train, and travelled homeward in his company, were surpris- ing when she recalled them. She had carefully avoided what was snpj)osed to he his regular train, lest he should get the idea that she was trying to stand guard over him in any way; hut take wliat- ever train from town she Avould, he was nearly certain to have chosen the same one. In her inno- cence it did not occur to her that he had skilful ways of possessing himself of lier intentions. A like experience had heen hers a luunher of times when she had arranged to spend an hour or two with his wife. It was sure to he the dav in which he surprised his wife hy coming home early. In these, and various other wavs, she had certainlv seen much of Ualph Brandett; yet she could not feel tliat any good results had followed. Unc^ues- tionahly Ralph was glad to talk with her, and upon any subject that she chose to bring forwai'd. Moreover, ho took high ground on all these sul)- jects ; either his sister-in-huv had been deceived in regard to him, or else he talked in this strain from force of habit. ^larjorie sadly feared that the latter was the case, because from her standpoint a man could not be growing, spiritually, and main- I*, „ i w< ■» I, ^i'' % f f: '*'«M ' ,1! 124 OVERRULED. tain a position in a distillery. The original plan that she had formed of rccaching and helping hiin through his wife seemed a failure. Although she had made extraordinary efforts to establish herself on the familiar footing with Mrs. Bramlett that the intimacy of their girlhood warranted, she found herself constantly held at a distance. She puzzled over the reasons for this. With the single exception of a few months before her marriage, during which time Marjorie had decided that she was so absorbed in her new relations and future prospects as to be indifferent to all former interests, Estelle Douglass had always shown, not only a willingness, but an eagerness, to be on inti- mate terms with Marjorie. Why had she changed so utterly? Studying the question with utmost care, Marjorie's only conclusion was, that i\Irs. Bramlett so felt her dignity as matron and mis- tress of a home of her own, that she was prepared to resent anything vdiich foreshadowed possible advice or suggestion of any sort. So, although there were some points on which she would have liked to advise her, Marjorie carefully held her- self from all such temptations. She realized from hints that Estelle had dropped, that the young wife had to endure more or less advice from her sister-in-law ; perhaps this made her suspicious of others. At least, it was the only solution that this young woman, who could be very stupid on occasion, could furnish, A SERIES OF BLUNDERS. 125 On the evening in question, Marjorie chanced to be seated quite alone in their cheery parlor, her mother being closeted in the dining-room with a poor woman who had a tale of woe to pour out in- tended for no ears but hex's. When, therefore, the little maid, whose duty it was, announced " Mr. Bramlett," it was Marjorie who advanced to meet him. " Alone ? " she said inquiringly ; " where is Es- telle ? I recognized your voice in the hall, and hoped you had both come to spend the evening." " I am alone," he said. " How is Estelle ? Not ill I hope ? But of course she is not, else you would not be here. Why did not this pleasant winter evening coax her out ? " " I did not bring her," was his brief reply. Then, " Is it a pleasant evening ? I did not know. I am too weary in body and soul to take note of weather, though it is pleasant liere. What a charming home you have, Marjorie ! I remember it, of coui-se. I remember every detail of the rooms ; sometimes I think of it as ' Paradise Lost.' " Marjorie gave him a swift, anxious glance. Cer- tain rumors had come to her from time to time as to his being much embarrassed about money-mat- ters, but she had given slight heed to them — there was always gossip afloat that had little or no foun- dation ; but on this evening, as she saw his troubled tace and listened to his dreary words, she wondered whether it could be that he was in such trouble I ' It t ■ i- III U' i-^K:,. r I im >(in r ,1 1! 126 OVERRULED. financially as to make the care-free days of his younger life seem almost like a paradise lost. " 1 want to talk with you," he said, drawing for- ward a chair for her, and sinking into one near it. '* I am glad to find you alone ; it seemed to me that I must talk to somebody, or go wild." ** O Ralph I " she said in tones of earnest syin- jjathy ; " what is the matter ? " Here was evi- dently some trouble from which lie meant to shield his wife, and from sheer force of habit ]^^' liad come to his old friend. She would not fail him. lie hesitated. Just what was the matter? Or latlier. what did he mean to say to her? It was not ex- actly sympathy of which he had come in searcli. but directly he stepped into that sympathetic at- mosphere the desire for it overpowered him. ''Everything is the matter," he said tragically; " nothing is as it should be in this world. Did you know it ? " Then he laughed cynicalh', and added, "You live a safe, sheltered life, do you not. Mar- jorie? Shut away from tlie disagreeable oi ■ ' rv sort. Well, I am glad ; that is as it should be." The sentence closed with a heavy sigh, and in a tone which hinted that a great deal more miglit be said were he at liberty to say it. Of course he was referring to business embar- rassments. Marjorie had not supposed that, to a salaried man, these could be very serious. After a moment's silence, during which she reflected what it was l)est to say, she resolved upon a bold stroke. A seiiie:s of blunders. 127 "Ralph, at the risk of seemmg to be unsym- pathetic, 1 will confess that I do not feel so sorry for your business troubles as perhaps you think one ought. If I were to speak quite the truth, I would confess that my strongest wish for you is that they should become so great as to cause you to break at once and forever from all association, however remote, with the liquor traffic. I am sure it is a business that must be distasteful to you in every way. I know you will forgive my plain speaking. I have never been able to look with any degree of endurance upon the position which you now occupy. The only thought I have had in connection with it has been one of pain and disappointment. It is not because you did not study for a i^rofession," she added hurriedly ; " I do not mean in the least that I consider a clerkship beneath you, or that it was other than the honorable coui*se, if it seemed necessary to you at the time to earn money innue- diately ; but some other clerkship than the one you hold is surely possible. There are so many honor- able places waiting for men like you. I shall have to confess that if your present position were so distasteful to you as to cause you to leave it to- morrow, I could only be glad." She stopped abruptly. The young man's face looked so hopelessly dark, as to oppress her with the fear that this was, after all, no time to broach this subject. " Vou ought to be satisfied with it," he said rf m 128 OVERRULED. ir :>: gloomily ; "you are to blame for my occupying it." She gave a little inward start. This was the fii"st attempt that he had made to refer to the pe- culiar relations which they used to sustain toward each other. In their reference to the past, both had gone away back to the time when they were schoolmates. The sentence pained her more deeply than he could imagine. Must she add yet this to the number of ways in which she had influenced others to their injury? Perhaps if she had not allowed lier girlish sense of dignity to take such full possession of her, and had remained his friend during those early beginnings of their misunder- standing, she might have saved him from this mis- take. But of what use to mention it now? It would be better for him not to talk about it. She was silent and distressed. He also realized that he had struck ii wrong note. " You surely undei-stand," he said at last, deter- mined to ignore his blunder, "how a man wlio lias made a false step in life, and who yet has a family of his own to care for, to say nothing of his father and mother, finds it ditttcult, in fact, finds it impos- sible, to retrace his steps. I may not approve of my work; I may hate it, indeed; yet it is all I have to depend upon, and I must abide by the position in which my folly has placed me." His listener's face brightened visibly. He did hate it then. His conscience was not at rest, and A SERlKSi OF IJLUNDERS. 12^ tills accounted for much of tlie gloom his face was wearing. She spoke with intense earnestness, — " No, Ralph, no ! What would become of any of us if we could never take back false steps ? I can undei'stand how hard it was for you at the time, feeling perhaps that j'our father needed help; and 1 can imagine some of the specious reasons that may have been brought to bear upon you. I have heard them advanced since ; but I am sure that your conscience has long ago told you how false they were. Throw up the position, Ralph. Do it at once. Your friends will rally around you. Why, no one will be more rejoiced over it than your father. I heard him* but a few weeks ago expressing the strength of his feeling on the liquor question. And Estelle, I am sure, will rejoice in it. She will feel that your truest manhood has reasserted itself. As for any tem- porary embarrassment that there may be while you are getting established in a new business, we, your friends, will be " — She stopped abruptly, distressed over his rapidly darkening face. Ralph Hramlett was a proud man; it was a bitter trial to have Marjorie Edmonds offer him pecuniary assistance. "Excuse me," he said coldly, "there are some things that even I cannot bear. And while we are upon the subject, I may as well say to you that you are utterly mistaken in some of your premises. My wife is the last person who would counsel me 4^i m *p ' *ii 136 OVERRTTt.Kn. to give up a certainty, meagre as she consiclei's it, for a fanatical idea, as she wouhl he sure to call it. She is tlie last pei-son who would help me in any wa}'. I tell you, Marjorie, that you do not know what I have to endure. I have made an awful, an irrtparal)le, blunder in my life, and I am mis- erable." There was no sympathy now in Marjorie's face, only cold indignation. Ifer voice expressed it promptly, *' You are making a very serious blunder now ; you are criticising your wife, and allowing yourself to speak words concerning her that the vows you have taken ought to make you ashamed to utter." He saw his mistake, and made haste to try to co\ . r it. " I beg your jDardon, Marjorie ; of course I ought not to have spoken. It is the last thing I meant to say ; but, indeed, I am so nearly beside m3\self at times, that I wonder I do not go wild. I want you to forget it. Believe me, I did not come here to say anything of this kind. I mean to live my life as best I can, and keep my misery to myself. I came to talk with you about other matters; and I do not know how I could so far forget myself." It was almost the first word of self-rebuke that Ralph Bramlett had ever been known to utter. Miserable uS was the occasion, was there not a shadow of encouragement in it? A SEltlES Ol'' BLUNt>EtlS. 131 Marjorie was silent from \ery doubt of what ought to be said. The next moment the sliding dooi's were rolled back, and jMi>5. Edmonds entered the room. ' " (Jood-evening," she sa^d, '•' Mi-s. liramlett is well, I hope? " AVas her voice colder than usual? How much of that last outburst had she heard? Ralph Bramlett arose on the instiint. lie could not talk platitudes with Marjorie's mother. He stammered some incoherent reply as to his wife's health, and got himself out, he hardly knew how, into the night. Perhaps a wilder storm of pain and disappoint- ment and rage never burned in human heart than that to which he gave free rein for a few minutes. The only redeeming feature in it was that for once hi his life he criticised his own actions. He asked himself why he had been such a consummate idiot as to go to that house at all, if he could not exer- cise common-sense? What insane spirit had pos- sessed him to drag in his wife, and say spiteful things about her to INIarjorie ! He might have known, if he knew anything, that no better way could be devised for making her withdraw her sympathy. What had been his object in going to her in the first place? In the confusion of l)rain which then possessed him, he could not satisfactorily answer even that question. He had felt impelled to seek her, therefore he had done so. It was a ridiculous idea, and deserved to fail as ignominiously as it 'f . II i .' %\i t;1 132 bVEtlRtJtEt)* had. Marjorie Edmonds was a fanatic of the fa- natics on that entire question, and he had always known it. What was he about ? Why should he, Ralph Bramlett, moon along after this sentimental fashion ? Why allow himself to be persuaded and cajoled by any woman living ! He would do exactly as he pleased, of course, as any man of sense would. What was Marjorie Ed- monds to him? She had chosen to toss him aside as of no consequence. What right had she to try to tutor him now ? The fact was, she had insulted him. Offering to take care of him until he could get a situation that suited her ! His face burned at the thought. Where would Marjorie Edmonds get her money with which to be so generous, save of that insufferable Maxwell who had spoiled his life ? Didn't she know that he would go to State prison rather than accept help of him ? By this time his mood of self-criticism had passed, and it was once mere other people who were to blame for all his misfortunes. He tramped long that night, passing once his sister-in-law whom he was to have taken home ; but he was on the op- posite side of the street, and she was in such ear- nest conversation with Jack Taylor that she did not notice him. When at last he reached his private room once more, the first thing he did was to sit down at his desk, and write a formal acceptance of the junior partner's business proposition. A COJJFIbfiNf lAL I'ALk. CHAPTER XII. A CONFIDENTIAL TALK. 133 -U:i THERE was silence in Mi's. Edmonds's parlor for some minutes after tlieir caller's depar- ture. Marjorie had dropped back into her seat near the open grate, and, with hands chisped in her lap, was staring at the coals. Mi's. Edmonds had taken up a book, and was supposed to be residing. In reality she was occupied in thinking of her daughter, and trying to decide whether it would be wise for her to speak what was in her heart, or keep silence. At last she decided that longer silence was neither being honest to herself, nor just to her daughter; and, after the manner of people who have planned for some time just how to commence a conversation, she said the very words that she would have chosen not to, springing, as it were, to the centre of her subject, instead of approach- ing it by degrees. " Marjorie, do jom think you are doing just right?" Marjorie started like one roused froui a painful i ' Why <1() yon not tliink of youi'self in sucli connec- tion ? Vou cannot liave tort»()tten tluit Ralph Hrani- lett used to be very intiniati in this lionse, ami that people who had no right to know anythino' about your alt'aii's, freely reported you as engaged to him. Can you imagine that he can single you out for attention in the way that he has l>een do- ing ever since we came home, and, above all, call upon you without his wife, and not furnish food for gaping eyes and censorious tongues ? " " Mother," said Marjorie, distressed almost be- yond speech, ''how can you think — how is it pos- sible for you to think — that there are any people so low as to talk about me in connection witli a married man ! " ' '• My daughter, you talk lus though you did not live in the world. Probably you have never real- ized how easy it is for a certiiin class of people to talk, nor out of wliat small material they can build their theories, l^ut I want to ask you frankly if, as a looker-on, you are sure you would call this small material. Is it customary for a young married man to call frequently without his wife at houses where there are no gentlemen? I am sure you do not realize the nundjer of times that Ralph Bramlett has rung our door-bell in the last few weeks. I remember that he has nearly always had an ostensible errand, — you nuist forgive me for saying ostensible, for some of them were flimsy enough, — and I know that he has made mP^ 11 M ' 1 1 ■A' ln() t)VEnntTLKt>. li; ::ii short calls, at least until this evoninj^ ; Init I must frankly own that I have no confidence in him. At the same time I will try to he just, and admit that I do not suspect him of any other motive than a sellisli desire to enjoy his own i)leasure for the time being, without regard to ap[)earan('es or the comfort of others. 1 have never known that young man to consult any one's comfort but his own ; and I think it is only too apparent that he is trying to draw you into a very confidential friend- ship with himself, — a friendship that shall exclude his wife. This does not surprise me in him ; hut I confess, that, to see m^- daughter pe litting sudi a state of things, has given me mo vin than I ever expected her to cause me." Marjorie sat in dumb distress. Only an hour before, she could have made indignant answei*; but that hour had brought her revelations. She was not benefiting Kali)h Bramlett. A man wIkj felt toward her in such a manner that he could arraign his own wife before her, and expect her sympathy, was not one whom she could benefit by friendship. Perhaps her mother was right, and she had been makiniy a mistake. But not surely in the way her mother feared. It could not he possible that any of those gossiping tongues would dare to touch her name ! No, she was sure sucli an idea was but the creature of an over-anxious imagination. Mothers were always over-careful ; and such wretched stories had come to here lately, A CONFIDKNTIAL TALK. 137 it was no wonder they had preyed upon her nerves. She si)oke at hist, gently, soothingly. " Ahinnna, you remember 1 told you not long ajjo that I believed you were always right, and I wrong, Avhen we differed ? 1 will say it again. I have perhaps been — not wise, in my anxiety to ht'lp poor Ilali)h. lie is in great trouljle, and needs help almost more than any one I know ; but he is a hoy still, not a man at all ; and I " — a moment's iiL'sitation, then a disappointed sigh — '-am not the one to help him. I did not mean to try directly ; I meant to reach him through Estelle ; but she holds aloof, and will not see what 1 could do for her." " And her very holding aloof, Marjorie, ought to show you how impossible it is for you to help her. Do you not see, is it possible you have not undei-stood all this time, that the poor creature is jealous of you? " Ahirjorie's face Avas aflame. " Mother ! " she said, controlling her voice, and choosing her words with care, '' if that sentence were spoken by any one but you would it not be almost insulting? How is it possible for any woman to think of me in such a connection as that ? Do you mean that I have given lier cause ? " Mi's. Edmonds made a movement of impatience. '' I used to think, Marjorie, that you had splen- did common-sense. Indeed, I have leaned upon you for yeai*s ; but I confess that your knowledge of the l^'l:' '!>.! »j:5H.ai »eight of testimony being on the side of ''sticking it out," and seeing what would "come of it.'' Something might "happen." Meantime (Jlyde heard by accident of the child's illness, and was waiting at the door. Somewhat frightened it is true ? serious illness in any form was new to her, and of death she knew nothing; but of coui-se she ought to call. Susie opened the door to her; the girl's eyes were red with weeping, and she burst into teai-s again at sight of her teacher. She said it was true, she supposed. Nannie was going to die. The doctor hadn't been there since yesterday; but he said then he couldn't do any- thing, and " ma " said she knew that the baby was worse. A strange revelation was that home to Glyde Douglass. The way to the little bedroom where the child lay, led through the main living-room of the family. Some time during the morning, there had been an attempt at breakfast ; the odor of * fried pork was distinctly in the air, and the soiled I ■'h I k r. 1 I ,, ' li '! '■11 \M . i if ^ ^l«' 1 1 146 OVERIIULED. i !■ n dishes and pork rinds still lay about on the ])aro table that had been pushed into one corner. The coal in the cook-stove had burned itself to a \v<\ glow, and the room wiis stifling. Huddled into cornel's in various stages of dishevelment, curiosity, and terror, were gathered tin little Miller's of all ages. There was very little furniture in the room, and the carpet that covered part of the floor was so worn tliat unwary feet must constantly have been tripped by it. Within the bedroom, which to (Clyde's horror was absolutely dark save for the light that filtered in from the large room, tokens of poverty were still more marked. The bed on which the child lay gasping for breath seemed to the eyes of the horror-stricken girl but a bundle of rags ; but the mother had as intense a look of agony on her haggard face as ever mother wore ; and her voice, as she bent over her dying baby, was tenderness itself. Clearly here was love, struggling with ignorance and poverty. " Clothe r," said Susie, ''here is Miss Douglass come to see if there is anything she can do. My teacher, you know, at the Mission." Mrs. Miller gave her one quick glance and nod, then turned her eyes back to the child as she saiti, " It's too late, Susie, to do anything. Oh, my baby, my baby! What shall I do?'' The old cry wrung from a mother's heart in the midst of the awfully incongruous surroundings. Poor Glyde had never in her life felt so utterly powerless. "TIIKKK <)l'(i;;T TO iti:" — 147 She iimde an effort in sciucli of wliat seemed to her the tii'st necessity. "Ought she not to liave air?" she said. "She breathes so hard ; it is dreadfully warm and elase here." The mother turned heavy eyes on her inquir- ingly. "Where would 1 get it? "she asked. I couldn't have the outside door open ; the young ones would get their deaths, and it would be bad for her. The doctor said we mustn't let no wind blow on her. And we can't get the windows up ; they are nailed in, and pasted up. We had to, to keep from freezing." The child died, of course. How could it do otherwise ? Then l)egan another phase of Glyde's education, in watching the preparations for the funeral. They chose, at much inconvenience to themselves, and against the judgment of the phy- sician, to wait until Sunday for the service. " Seems as if I nuist ! " the mother said ; " Sun- day is the only day that poor folks have time even to cry." Her neighbors from the other tenement houses gathered, after factory houi-s, and cleaned, and made that living-room habitable. Thei' they spared each a chair or two from their meagre stores, until there were seats for all. ^Meanwhile the wardrobe, not only of the mother and Susie, but of all the little ones, was a source of no small anxiety. ^ " 'Tain't decent not to have a bit of black about ■. n ^i J^; ■! mi m I til) i^C mm\ /IM^ ':h n 148 OVERRULED. lit:' ' 'em jomewheres," so the mother argued, "poor little wretches; they all loved her dearly, and they was ds quiet as mice that day she was so bad. Get a black ribbon for 'em, do ! I'll make it up somehow, and a few bits of black ribbon can't cost much.'* It was then Glyde learned that while the very wealthy and aristocratic will sometimes ignore al- together the custom of wearing black, and the moderately poor and respectable can often be easily persuaded to follow such example, those in abject poverty, who have not yet discovered the latest fashions, cling to their black dresses and ribbons and veils as tokens of love for their dead. T1h» same thought appeared in other ways. Glyde was indefatigable during those two intervening days. She secured warm flannels for the living children, and, in several cases, the much-needed shoes; she discovered in somebody's store-room a half- worn overcoat for the little boy; she brought a warm flannel sack for the mother; she furnished from Mrs. Edmonds's kitchen nourishing food for the half-starved family; but it was when, on the morning of the funeral, she had brought a wreath of choice flowers tied with white satin ribbon, that the young ladies of the church Bible-class had sent to lay on the little coffin, that the poor moth^. broke into tears and exclamations of gratitude. Flowers in March on her baby's coffin, and tied with soft white satin ribbon in unstinted quanti- ■• -^ "THERE OUGHT TO BE " — 149 ties, seemed to mean more to her than clothing and food. She cried again when Mrs. McPliei-son, in whose attic the little overcoat had been found, sent her carriage for the mother, and the half- drunken father, and all tlie little Millet's to crowd into, and ride to the grave. Here, too, was wluit she seemed to consider a love-token to the waxen- faced baby who was riding in state in front of them. Other discoveries Glyde made. During those three days, when the Millers by reason of tlieir bereavement came into prominence among their neighbors, it was Bill Seber, the worse than worth- less fellow against whom she had exhausted her ingenuity in warning Susie, who was on the alert day and night to serve them all. It was he who looked after certain homely details for the heavy- eyed mother; it was he who watched over the ir- responsible father to see that he did not drink enough to disgrace his dead child ; it was he who superintended the arrangement of the chairs on the day of the funeral, and who moved the heavier pieces of furniture out of the way, and received and seated the neighbors as they filed in, and placed Susie beside her mother in the carriage, and tucked all the little Millers swiftly and quietly into place. Alert, thoughtful, eager to serve, cer- tainly a mine of strength was Bill Seber during those trying days. Glyde could see how, in a sense, Susie was not only grateful to him, but proud of '-■■ Mm ;,j|fH' r^i i m nr- I III Ml ! I 150 OVRHnULED. hiiu. Perhaps his virtues showed in stronger li^lii heciiuse of the utter iilweiice of young men of ii higher grade. In vain did (ilyde, when she awa- kened to the importance of such influences, try to secure some of tiie young men from the Mission to attend tlie Miller haby's funeral. A few of them were engaged in Christian work elsewhere at that hour; hut the majority needed it for rest, for din- nei', for whatever they chose to do, and could not be made to see the imixntaniie of sacriHcing their own ease and inclination for even a single Sunday. So impressed did (Jlyde become with the power of these minor matters, that, failing in othei-s, she liinted her desire to her brother-in-law, and was sorry afterwards that she did so ; for he came, and walked dect)rously beside Marjorie Edmonds to and from the little "Factory cemetery" where these people buried their dead, (ilyde was beginning to feel, ratiier than see, reasons why this should not have been. All things considered, the trouble that came to the Miller family was an education in several ways to this young Christian worker. An education that troubled her. She told over some of her thoughts to Marjorie as they sat together in the latter's parlor one afternoon. "There are so many puzzling things about it all, Marjorie. One doesn't know what to try to do. Take those Millers, for instance ; they are repre- sentative of quite a large class. Poor, — nuuli '•THKKK orcJUT To \\v/' — ir>t poorer than they need Ik.', on account of whiskey; it is dreadful to think liow many of tliose factory [U'ople drink up tlieirearniiij>;s, — yet see Ijow tliey liiive managed. They had no bread in the liouse yesterday, and no credit witli which to ^vt it ; Imt tliey had to liave l>hu*k divsses and a hit of ci-apt? oil their honnets, and all that sort of thino-. Isn't it sad, Marjorie, to tliink of tlieir poor hard-eai-ned money Ix'ing spent in that way? If tliey c(>nld iiave taken it l)eforeliand, and houjilit flannels for tlie l)ahy, and good milk for her to drink, and a de- cent I)ed for her to sleep on, it would have saved her life perhai)s. Hut saved it to wliat? I am so distressed when I think of it all, tliat it seems as though it wouhl lu'eak my lieart. See how they ii^o on for generations — no iniprovenu'ut. I pre- sume Mi's. Miller's mother was such another as she, and I am afraid Susie Avill l)e nuich tiie same. Why, Mrs. ^Miller simply does not know how to make her room clean I while as for bread, she woidd have to buy the misei'able stuff the}' get at the bakery in any case, l)ecause she has not the least idea how to make it. She doesn't know what to do with the meat she l)uys, in order to get any nour- ishment from it; why, she doesn't even know how to manage her coal fire I And as for making a home for those children — o//, dear ! What chance is there that she will ever know any of these things? How is she to learn ? No homes worthy of the name are open to her. She represents at [I ^y N; I ■ 1 < ' I 1 ,?l. |fl'*'* y by the half-dozen, or somcthnes by only two. '■'• r can invite them to my mother's parlor, you think, and so I can, and do ; and you invite them here, I have by no means forgotten all the de- ■\^m h'', ■/:'.; ii! i'^Ki'm m ' )! 1 ti'i < 154 OVERRULED. lightfiil things you and your mother have done tind are doing for my girls; hut I am talking ahout something else now. I don't want them always to have to come ever so far away from their homes and the streets where they live, for their hai)py times ; the home ought to go down to them, and make a centre for them to gather in and get ideas." '* A college settlement, for instance," suggested Marjorie. " Yes ; or no, not quite that, either. That is too hirge ; it has a secretary, and a Board, and is managed. Don't you know what I mean? If I had a home of my very own," — here a soft fush suffused itself over her earnest face, — "and coidd put it where I liked, I should like to go rii,dit down among them, and have a large, cheery, homely sitting-room that, on certain evenings, for instance, should belong to Susie Miller, to manage as she would. And between times I should like to show her how to manage." She laughed a little over this, and added, "You think me an idiot, and perhaps I am; but there are certain experi- ments that I should like to try." "Whether or not Susie Miller is being educated. Glyde Douglass certainly is." This was Mi-s. Ed- monds's remark after (xlyde had left them. She had sat apart, a silent, amused listener to the girl's eager outbui'st. Marjorie gave a detailed account of the conver- "• THERK OUGHT ^fO BE — loo satioii in her letter to Mi\ Maxwell, and closed with the following: — " III sliort, when a certain Paul Hurwell gets ready to .set up his home, may I be near enough to observe its workings ; for little i\Irs. Paul — that is to be — is certainly getting ready to undertake some astonishing experiments. Oh, but sli(! is delicious ! such a rest from all the other girls ! And it is such a comfort to me to think that the young man is evidently ready to meet her more than half way. She