\
 
 WITHOUT A HOME 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD P. ROE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 BARRIERS BURNED AWAY," " OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR,' 
 " SUCCESS WITH SMALL FRUITS," ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 
 No. 755 BROADWAY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1881, BY 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
 
 WT7 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 JUST ten years ago I took my first hesitating and dubious 
 steps toward authorship. My reception on the part of the 
 public has been so much kinder than I expected, and the 
 audience that has listened to my stories with each successive 
 autumn has been so steadfast and loyal, that I can scarcely be 
 blamed for entertaining a warm and growing regard for these 
 unseen, unknown friends. Toward indifferent strangers we 
 maintain a natural reticence, but as acquaintance ripens into 
 friendship there is a mutual impulse toward an exchange of 
 confidences. In the many kind letters received I have grate 
 fully recognized this impulse in my readers, and am tempted 
 by their interest to be a little garrulous concerning my literary 
 life, the causes which led to it, and the methods of my work. 
 Those who are indifferent can easily skip these preliminary 
 pages, and those who are learning to care a little for the per 
 sonality of him who has come to them so often with the kin 
 dling of the autumn fires may find some satisfaction in learn 
 ing why he comes, and the motive, the spirit with which, in 
 a sense, he ventures to be present at their hearths. 
 
 One of the advantages of authorship is criticism ; and I 
 have never had reason to complain of its absence. My only 
 regret is that I have not been able to make better use of it, 
 I admit that both the praise and blame have been rather be 
 wildering, but this confusion is undoubtedly due to a lack of 
 the critical faculty. With one acute gentleman, however, who
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 remarked that it ' ' was difficult to account for the popularity 
 of Mr. Roe's books," I am in hearty accord, I fully share 
 in his surprise and perplexity. It may be that we at last 
 have an instance of an effect without a cause. 
 
 Ten years ago I had never written a line of a story, and had 
 scarcely entertained the thought of constructing one. The 
 burning of Chicago impressed me powerfully, and obedient 
 to an impulse I spent several days among its smoking 
 ruins. As a result, my first novel, " Barriers Burned 
 Away," gradually took possession of my mind. I did 
 not manufacture the story at all, for it grew as natu 
 rally as do the plants weeds, some may suggest on my 
 farm. In the intervals of a busy and practical life, and also 
 when I ought to have been sleeping, my imagination, un- 
 spurred, and almost undirected, spun the warp and woof of 
 the tale, and wove them together. At first I supposed it 
 would be but a brief story, which might speedily find its way 
 into my own waste-basket, and I was on the point of burning 
 it more than once. One wintry afternoon I read the few 
 chapters then written to a friend in whose literary taste I had 
 much confidence, and had her verdict been adverse they prob 
 ably would have perished as surely as a callow germ exposed 
 to the bitter storm then raging without. I am not sure, 
 however, but that the impulse to write would have carried 
 me forward, and that I would have found ample return for 
 all the labor in the free play of my fancy, even though editors 
 and publishers scoffed at the result. 
 
 On a subsequent winter afternoon the incipient story passed 
 through another peril. In the office of The New York 
 Evangelist I read the first eight chapters of my blotted man 
 uscript to Dr. Field and his associate editor, Mr. J. H. Dey. 
 This fragment was all that then existed, and as I stumbled 
 through my rather blind chirography I often looked askance 
 at the glowing grate, fearing lest my friends in kindness would
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 suggest that I should drop the crude production on the coals, 
 where it could do neither me nor any one else further harm, 
 and then go out into the world once more clothed in my right 
 mind. A heavy responsibili'y rests on the gentlemen named, 
 for they asked me to leave the manuscript for serial issue. 
 From that hour I suppose I should date the beginning of my 
 life of authorship. The story grew from eight into fifty-two 
 chapters, and ran just one year in the paper, my manuscript 
 often being ready but a few pages in advance of publication. 
 I wrote no outline for my guidance ; I merely let the char 
 acters do as they pleased, and work out their own destiny. I 
 had no preparation for my work beyond a careful study of the 
 topography of Chicago and the incidents of the fire. For 
 nearly a year my chief recreation was to dwell apart among 
 the shadows created by my fancy, and I wrote when and where 
 I could on steamboats and railroad cars, as well as in my 
 study. In spite of my fears the serial found readers, and at 
 last I obtained a publisher. When the book appeared I sup 
 pose I looked upon it much as a young father looks upon 
 his first child. His interest in it is intense, but he knows 
 well that its future is very doubtful. 
 
 It appears to me, however, that the true impulse toward 
 authorship does not arise from a desire to please any one, but 
 rather from a strong consciousness of something definite to 
 say, whether people will listen or not. I can honestly assert 
 that I have never manufactured a novel, and should I do so 
 I am sure it would be so wooden and lifeless that no one 
 would read it My stories have come with scarcely any 
 volition on my part, and their characters control me. If I 
 should move them about like images they would be but 
 images. In every book they often acted in a manner just 
 the opposite from that which I had planned. Moreover, 
 there are unwritten stories in my mind, the characters of 
 which are becoming almost as real as the people I meet daily.
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 While composing narratives I forget everything and live 
 in an ideal world, which nevertheless is real for the time. 
 The fortunes of the characters affect me deeply, and I truly 
 believe that only as I feel strongly will the reader be in 
 terested. A book, like a bullet, can go only as far as the 
 projecting force carries it. 
 
 The final tests of all literary and art work are an intelligent 
 public and time. We may hope, dream, and claim what we 
 please, but these two tribunals will settle all values ; there 
 fore the only thing for an author or artist to do is to express 
 his own individuality clearly and honestly, and submit pa 
 tiently and deferentially to these tests. In nature the lichen 
 has its place as truly as the oak. 
 
 I will say but a few words in regard to the story contained 
 in this volume. It was announced two years ago, but I found 
 that I could not complete it satisfactorily. In its present form 
 it has been almost wholly re-cast, and much broadened in its 
 scope. It touches upon several modern and very difficult 
 problems. I have not in the remotest degree attempted to 
 solve them, but rather have sought to direct attention to 
 them. In our society public opinion is exceedingly power 
 ful. It is the torrent that sweeps away obstructing evils. 
 The cleansing tide is composed originally of many rills and 
 streamlets, and it is my hope that this volume may add a little 
 to that which at last is irresistible. 
 
 I can say with sincerity that I have made my studies care 
 fully and patiently, and when dealing with practical phases of 
 city life I have evolved very little from my own inner con 
 sciousness. I have visited scores of typical tenements ; I 
 have sat day after day on the bench with the police judges, 
 and have visited the station-houses repeatedly. There are 
 few large retail shops that I have not entered many times, 
 and I have conversed with both the employers and employes. 
 It is a shameful fact that, in the face of a plain statute fcr<
 
 PREFACE. VIZ 
 
 bidding the barbarous regulation, saleswomen are still com 
 pelled to stand continuously in many of the stores. On the 
 intensely hot day when our murdered President was brought 
 from Washington to the seaside, I found many girls standing 
 wearily and uselessly because of this inhuman rule. There 
 was no provision for their occasional rest Not for a thou 
 sand dollars would I have incurred the risk and torture of 
 standing through that sultry day. There are plenty of shops 
 in the city which are now managed on the principles of 
 humanity, and such patronage should be given to these and 
 withdrawn from the others as would teach the proprietors 
 that women are entitled to a little of the consideration that is 
 so justly associated with the work of the Society for the Pre 
 vention of Cruelty to Animals. Mr. Bergh deserves praise 
 for protecting even a cat from cruelty ; but all the cats in the 
 city unitedly could not suffer as much as the slight growing 
 girl who must stand during a long hot day. I trust the 
 reader will note carefully the Appendix at the close of this 
 book. 
 
 It will soon be discovered that the modern opium or mor 
 phia habit has a large place in this volume. While I have 
 tried to avoid the style of a medical treatise, which would be 
 in poor taste in a work of fiction, I have carefully consulted 
 the best medical works and authorities on the subject, and I 
 have conversed with many opium slaves in all stages of the 
 habit. I am sure I am right in fearing that in the morphia 
 hunger and consumption one of the greatest evils of the 
 future is looming darkly above the horizon of society. 
 Warnings against this poison of body and soul cannot be too 
 solemn or too strong. 
 
 So many have aided me in the collection of my material 
 that any mention of names may appear almost invidious ; but 
 as the reader will naturally think that the varied phases of the 
 opium habit are remote from my experience, I will say that I
 
 Vlli PREFACE. 
 
 have been guided in my words by trustworthy physicians like 
 Drs. E. P. Fowler, of New York ; Louis Seaman, chief 'of 
 staff at the Charity Hospital ; Wm. H. Vail, and many others. 
 I have also read such parts of my MS. as touched on this sub 
 ject to Dr. H. K. Kane, the author of two works on the 
 morphia habit. 
 
 This novel appeared as a serial in the Congregationalist of 
 Boston, and my acknowledgments are due to the editors and 
 publishers of this journal for their confidence in taking the 
 story before it was written and for their uniform courtesy. 
 
 I can truly say that I have bestowed more labor on this book 
 than upon any which have preceded it ; for the favor accorded 
 me by the public imposes the strongest obligation to be con 
 scientious in my work.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER J"AGK 
 
 I. One Girl's Ideal of Life 9 
 
 II. Weakness i? 
 
 III. Confidential 26 
 
 IV. ' Pitiless Waves." 31 
 
 V. The Rudiments of a Man 43 
 
 VI. Roger Discovers a New Type 53 
 
 VII. Comparisons 61 
 
 VIII. Changes 66 
 
 IX. Neither Boy nor Man 77 
 
 X. A Council 89 
 
 XL A Shadow 97 
 
 XII. Viewless Fetters 107 
 
 XIII. A Scene Beneath the Hemlocks 119 
 
 XIV. The Old Mansion 135 
 
 XV. "Welcome Home." 146 
 
 XVI. Belleand Mildred 159 
 
 XVII. Belle Launches Herself. 171 
 
 XVIII. " I Believe in You." ... 185
 
 ^ CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER FAGB 
 
 XIX. Belle Jars the " System." 197 
 
 XX. Several Quiet Forces at Work 211 
 
 % XL " He's a Man." 223 
 
 XXII. Skilled Labor 233 
 
 XXIII. The Old Astronomer 242 
 
 XXIV. Roger Reappears 251 
 
 XXV. The Dark Shadow of Coming Events 264 
 
 XXVI. Waxing and Waning Manhood 272 
 
 XXVII. A Slave 282 
 
 XXVIII. New York's Humanity 289 
 
 XXIX. The Beatitudes of Opium 299 
 
 XXX. The Secret Vice Revealed 309 
 
 XXXI. An Opium Maniac's Christmas, 323 
 
 XXXII. A Black Conspiracy 340 
 
 XXXIII. Mildred in a Prison Cell 354 
 
 XXXIV. "A Wise Judge" 369 
 
 XXXV. " I am so Perplexed " '..388 
 
 XXXVI. A Woman's Heart 399 
 
 XXXVII. Strong Temptation 410 
 
 XXXVIII. No " Dark Corners " 423 
 
 XXXIX. " Home, Sweet Home " 434 
 
 XL. Neighbors 446 
 
 XLI. Glints of Sunshine 460 
 
 XLII. Hopes Given and Slain 469 
 
 XLIII. Was Belle Murdered ? 480
 
 CONTENTS. xi 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 XLI V. The Final Consolations of Opium 485 
 
 XLV. Mother and Son 495 
 
 XLVI. A Fatal Error 505 
 
 XLVIL Light at Eventide. 516 
 
 XLVIII. " Good Angel of God " 529 
 
 XLIX. Home 541 
 
 Appendix 557
 
 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ONE GIRL'S IDEAL OF LIFE. 
 
 IT was an attractive picture that Martin Jocelyn looked 
 upon through the open doorway of his parlor. His lively 
 daughter Belle had invited half a score of her schoolmates 
 to spend the evening, and a few privileged brothers had been 
 permitted to come also. The young people were naturally 
 selecting those dances which had some of the characteristics 
 of a romp, for they were at an age when motion means en 
 joyment. 
 
 Miss Belle, eager and mettlesome, stood waiting for mu 
 sic that could scarcely be lighter or more devoid of moral 
 quality than her own immature heart. Life, at that time, 
 had for her but one great desideratum fun ; and with her 
 especial favorites about her, with a careful selection of ' ' nice 
 brothers, ' ' canvassed with many pros and cons over neglect 
 ed French exercises, she had the promise of plenty of it for 
 a long evening, and her dark eyes glowed and cheeks flamed 
 at the prospect. Impatiently tapping the floor with her foot, 
 she looked toward her sister, who was seated at the piano. 
 
 Mildred Jocelyn knew that all were waiting for her ; she 
 instinctively felt the impatience she did not see, and yet 
 could not resist listening to some honeyed nonsense that her 
 "friend" was saying. Ostensibly, Vinton Arnold was at
 
 10 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 her side to turn the leaves of the music, but in reality to 
 feast his eyes on beauty which daily bound him in stronger 
 chains of fascination. Her head drooped under his words, 
 but only as the flowers bend under the dew and rain that 
 give them life. His passing compliment was a trifle, but it 
 seemed like the delicate touch to which the subtle electric 
 current responds. From a credulous, joyous heart a crim 
 son tide welled up into her face and neck ; she could not 
 repress a smile, though she bowed her head in girlish shame 
 to hide it. Then, as if the light, gay music before her-had 
 become the natural expression of her mood, she struck into 
 it with a brilliancy and life that gave even Belle content 
 
 Arnold saw the pleasure his remark had given, and sur 
 mised the reason why the effect was so much greater than 
 the apparent cause. For a moment an answering glow 
 lighted up his pale face, and then, as if remembering some 
 thing, he sighed deeply ; but in the merry life which now 
 filled the apartments a sigh stood little chance of recognition. 
 
 The sigh of the master of the house, however, was so deep 
 and his face so clouded with care and anxiety as he turned 
 from it all, that his wife, who at that moment met him, was 
 compelled to note that something was amiss. 
 
 " Martin, what is it ?" she asked. 
 
 He looked for a moment into her troubled blue eyes, and 
 noted how fair, delicate, and girlish she still appeared in her 
 evening dress. He knew also that the delicacy and refine 
 ment of feature were but the reflex of her nature, and, for 
 the first time in his life, he wished that she were a strong, 
 coarse woman. 
 
 " No matter, Fanny, to-night. See that the youngsters 
 have a good time," and he passed hastily out. 
 
 " He's worrying about those stupid business matters 
 again, ' ' she said, and the thought seemed to give much relief. 
 
 Business matters were masculine, and she was essentially
 
 ONE GIRL'S IDEAL OF LIFE. II 
 
 feminine. Her world was as far removed from finance as 
 her laces from the iron in which her husband dealt. 
 
 A little boy of four years of age and a little girl of six, 
 whose tiny form was draped in such gossamer-like fabrics 
 that she seemed more fairy-like than human, were pulling at 
 her dress, eager to enter the mirth-resounding parlors, but 
 afraid to leave her sheltering wing. Mrs. Jocelyn watched 
 the scene from the doorway, where her husband had stood, 
 without his sigh. Her motherly heart sympathized with 
 Belle's abounding life and fun, and her maternal pride was 
 assured by the budding promise of a beauty which would 
 shine pre-eminent when the school-girl should become a 
 belle in very truth. 
 
 But her eyes rested on Mildred with wistful tenderness. 
 Her own experience enabled her to interpret her daughter's 
 manner, and to understand the ebb and flow of feeling 
 whose cause, as yet, was scarcely recognized by the young 
 girl. 
 
 The geniality of Mrs. Jocelyn' s smile might well assure 
 Vinton Arnold that she welcomed his presence at her daugh 
 ter' s side, and yet, for some reason, the frank, cordial greet 
 ing in the lady's eyes and manner made him sigh again. 
 He evidently harbored a memory or a thought that did not 
 accord with the scene or the occasion. Whatever it was it 
 did not prevent him from enjoying to the utmost the pleas 
 ure he ever found in the presence of Mildred. In contrast 
 with Belle she had her mother's fairness and delicacy of 
 feature, and her blue eyes were not designed to express the 
 exultation and pride of one of society's flattered favorites. 
 Indeed it was already evident that a glance from Arnold was 
 worth more than the world's homage. And yet it was com 
 ically pathetic as it ever is to see how the girl tried to hide 
 the ' ' abundance of her heart. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Millie is myself right over again, ' ' thought Mrs. Joce-
 
 12 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 lyn ; ' ' hardly in society before in a fair way to be out of 
 it Beaux in general have few attractions for her. Belle, 
 however, will lead the young men a chase. If I'm any 
 judge, Mr. Arnold's symptoms are becoming serious. He's 
 just the one of all the world for Millie, and could give her 
 the home which her style of beauty requires a home in 
 which not a common or coarse thing would be visible, but 
 all as dainty as herself. How I would like to furnish her 
 house ! But Martin always thinks he's so poor." 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn soon left the parlor to complete her arrange 
 ments for an elegant little supper, and she complacently felt 
 that, whatever might be the tribulations of the great iron firm 
 down town, her small domain was serene with present happi 
 ness and bright with promise. 
 
 While the vigorous appetites of the growing boys and girls 
 were disposing of the supper, Arnold and Mildred rather 
 neglected their plates, finding ambrosia in each other's eyes, 
 words, and even intonations. Now that they had the deserted 
 parlor to themselves, Mildred seemed under less constraint. 
 
 " It was very nice of you," she said, " to come and help 
 me entertain Belle's friends, especially when they are all so 
 young. ' ' 
 
 " Yes," he replied. " I am a happy monument of self- 
 sacrifice." 
 
 " But not a brazen one," she added quickly. 
 
 ' ' No, nor a bronze one, either, ' ' he said, and a sudden 
 gloom gathered in his large dark eyes. 
 
 She had always admired the pallor of his face. ' ' It set 
 off his superb brown eyes and heavy mustache so finely, ' ' 
 she was accustomed to say. But this evening for some 
 reason she wished that there was a little more bronze on his 
 cheek and decision in his manner. His aristocratic pallor 
 was a trifle too great, and he seemed a little frail to satisfy 
 even her ideal of manhood.
 
 ONE GIRL'S IDEAL OF LIFE. 13 
 
 She said, in gentle solicitude, ' ' You do not look well this 
 spring. I fear you are not very strong." 
 
 He glanced at her quickly, but in her kindly blue eyes 
 and in every line of her lovely face he saw only friendly 
 regard perhaps more, for her features were not designed for 
 disguises. After a moment he replied, with a quiet bitterness 
 which both pained and mystified her, 
 
 ' ' You are right I am not strong. ' ' 
 
 ' ' But summer is near, ' ' she resumed earnestly. ' ' You 
 will soon go to the country, and will bring back this fall 
 bronze in plenty, and the strength of bronze. Mother says 
 we shall go to Saratoga. That is one of your favorite haunts, 
 I believe, so I shall have the pleasure, perhaps, of drinking 
 ' your very good health ' some bright morning before break 
 fast. Which is your favorite spring ?' ' 
 
 " I do not know. I will decide after I have learned your 
 choice." 
 
 " That's an amiable weakness. I think I shall like Sara 
 toga. The great hotels contain all one wishes for amuse 
 ment. Then everything about town is so nice, pretty, and 
 sociable. The shops, also, are fine. Too often we have 
 spent our summers in places that were a trifle dreary. 
 Mountains oppress me with a sense of littleness, and their 
 wildness frightens me. The ocean is worse still. The 
 moment I am alone with it, such a lonely, desolate feeling 
 creeps over me oh, I can't tell you ! I fear you think I 
 am silly and frivolous. You think I ought to be inspired 
 by the shaggy mountains and wild waves and all that. Well, 
 you may think so I won't tell fibs. I don't think moth 
 er is frivolous, and she feels as I do. We are from the 
 South, and like things that are warm, bright, and sociable. 
 The ocean always seemed to me so large and cold and piti 
 less to care so little for those in its power. ' ' 
 
 " In that respect it's like the world, or rather the people 
 in it--"
 
 14 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 "Oh, no, no !" she interrupted eagerly; " it is to the 
 world of people I am glad to escape from these solitudes of 
 nature. As I said, the latter, with their vastness, power, and, 
 worse than all, their indifference, oppress me, and make me 
 shiver with a vague dread. I once saw a ship beaten to 
 pieces by the waves in a storm. It was on the coast near 
 where we were spending the summer. Some of the people 
 on the vessel were drowned, and their cries ring in my ears 
 to this day. Oh, it was piteous to see them reaching out 
 their hands, but the great merciless waves would not stop a 
 moment, even when a little time would have given the life 
 boats a chance to save the poor creatures. The breakers just 
 struck and pounded the ship until it broke into pieces, and 
 then tossed the lifeless body and broken wood on the shore 
 as if one were of no more value than the other. I can' t 
 think of it without shuddering, and I've hated the sea ever 
 since, and never wish to go near it again." 
 
 " You have unconsciously described this Christian city," 
 said Arnold, with a short laugh. 
 
 " What a cynic you are to-night ! You condemn all the 
 world, and find fault even with yourself a rare thing in cynics, 
 I imagine. As a rule they are right, and the universe wrong. ' ' 
 
 " I have not found any fault with you," he said, in a tone 
 that caused her long eyelashes to veil the pleasure she could 
 not wholly conceal. 
 
 ' ' I hope the self-constraint imposed by your courtesy is 
 not too severe for comfort I also understand the little fic 
 tion of excepting present company. But I cannot help re 
 membering that I am a wee bit of the world and very 
 worldly ; that is, I am very fond of the world and all its 
 pretty follies. I like nice people much better than savage 
 mountains and heartless waves." 
 
 ' ' And yet you are not what I should call a society girl, 
 Miss Millie."
 
 ONE GIRL'S IDEAL OF LIFE. 15 
 
 "I'm glad you think so. I've no wish to win that char 
 acter. Fashionable society seems to me like the sea, as rest 
 less and unreasoning, always on the go, and yet never going 
 anywhere. I know lots of girls who go here and there and 
 do this and that with the monotony with which the waves roll 
 in and out. Half the time they act contrary to their wishes 
 and feelings, but they imagine it the thing to do, and they do 
 it till they are tired and bored half to death. ' ' 
 
 " What, then, is your ideal of life ?" 
 
 Her head drooped a little lower, and the tell-tale color 
 would come as she replied hesitatingly, and with a slight 
 deprecatory laugh, 
 
 "Well, I can't say I've thought it out very definitely. 
 Plenty of real friends seem to me better than the world's 
 stare, even though there's a trace of admiration in it. Then, 
 again, you men so monopolize the world that there is not 
 much left for us poor women to do ; but I have imagined 
 that to create a lovely home, and to gather in it all the 
 beauty within one's reach, and just the people one best liked, 
 would be a very congenial life-work for some women. That 
 is what mother is doing for us, and she seems very happy 
 and contented much more so than those ladies who seek 
 their pleasures beyond their homes. You see I use my eyes, 
 Mr. Arnold, even if I am not antiquated enough to be 
 wise." ^.-., 
 
 His look had grown so wistful and intent that she could 
 not meet it, but averted her face as she spoke. Suddenly he 
 sprang up, and took her hand with a pressure all too strong 
 for the " friend " she called him, as he said, 
 
 ' ' Miss Millie, you are one of a thousand. Good-night. ' ' 
 
 For a few moments she sat where he left her. What did 
 he mean ? Had she revealed her heart too plainly ? His 
 manner surely had been unmistakable, and no woman could 
 have doubted the language of his eyes.
 
 i6 
 
 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ' l But some constraint, ' ' she sighed, ' ' ties his tongue. ' ' 
 The more she thought it over, however and what young 
 girl does not live over such interviews a hundred times the 
 more convinced she became that her favorite among the 
 many who sought her favor gave as much to her as she to 
 him ; and she was shrewd enough to understand that the 
 nearer two people exchange evenly in these matters the bet 
 ter it is for both. Her last thought that night was, " To 
 make a home for him would be happiness indeed. How 
 much life promises me I"
 
 WEAKNESS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WEAKNESS. 
 
 VINTON ARNOLD'S walk down Fifth Avenue was so 
 rapid as to indicate strong perturbation. At last he 
 entered a large house of square, heavy architecture, a crea 
 tion evidently of solid wealth in the earlier days of the 
 thoroughfare's history. There was something in his step as 
 he crossed the marble hall to the hat-rack and then went up 
 the stairway that caused his mother to pass quickly from her 
 sitting-room that she might intercept him. After a moment' s 
 scrutiny she said, in a low, hard tone, 
 
 " You have spent the evening with Miss Jocelyn again." 
 
 He made no reply. 
 
 ' ' Are you a man of honor ?' ' 
 
 His pallid face crimsoned instantly, and his hands clenched 
 with repressed feeling, but he still remained silent. Neither 
 did he appear to have the power to meet his mother's cold, 
 penetrating glance. 
 
 " It would seem," she resumed, in the same quiet, incisive 
 tone, ' ' that my former suggestions have been unheeded. I 
 fear that I must speak more plainly. You will please come 
 with me for a few moments. ' ' 
 
 With evident reluctance he followed her to a small apart 
 ment, furnished richly, but with the taste and elegance of a 
 past generation. He had become very pale again, but his 
 face wore the impress of pain and irresolution rather than of 
 sullen defiance or of manly independence. The hardness of
 
 1 8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the gold that had been accumulating in the family for gen 
 erations had seemingly permeated the mother's heart, for the 
 expression of her son's face softened neither her tone nor 
 manner. And yet not for a moment could she be made to 
 think of herself as cruel, or even stern. She was simply firm 
 and sensible in the performance of her duty. She was but 
 maintaining the traditional policy of the family, and was con 
 scious that society would thoroughly approve of her course. 
 Chief of all, she sincerely believed that she was promoting 
 her son's welfare, but she had not Mrs. Jocelyn's gentle ways 
 of manifesting solicitude. 
 
 After a moment of oppressive silence, she began, 
 
 " Perhaps I can best present this issue in its true light b) 
 again asking, Are you a man of honor ?' ' 
 
 "Is it dishonorable," answered her son irritably, " to 
 love a pure, good girl ?" 
 
 " No," said his mother, in the same quiet, measured 
 voice ; ' ' but it may be very great folly and a useless waste. 
 It is dishonorable, however, to inspire false hopes in a girl's 
 heart, no matter who she is. It is weak and dishonorable to 
 hover around a pretty face like a poor moth that singes its 
 wings. ' ' 
 
 In sudden, passionate appeal, he exclaimed, " If I can win 
 Miss Jocelyn, why cannot I marry her ? She is as good as 
 she is beautiful. If you knew her as I do you would be 
 proud to call her your daughter. They live very prettily, 
 even elegantly " 
 
 By a simple, deprecatory gesture Mrs. Arnold made her 
 son feel that it was useless to add another word. 
 
 " Vinton," she said, " a little reason in these matters is 
 better than an indefinite amount of sentimental nonsense. 
 You are now old enough to be swayed by reason, and not 
 to fume and fret after the impossible like a child. Neither 
 your father nor I have acted hastily in this matter. It was a
 
 WEAKNESS. 19 
 
 great trial to discover that you had allowed your fancy to 
 become entangled below the circle in which it is your privi 
 lege to move, and I am thankful that my other children have 
 been more considerate. In a quiet, unobtrusive way we 
 have taken pains to learn all about the Jocelyns. They are 
 comparative strangers in the city. Mr. Jocelyn is merely a 
 junior partner in a large iron firm, and from all your father 
 says I fear he has lived too elegantly for his means. That 
 matter will soon be tested, however, for his firm is in trouble 
 and will probably have to suspend. With your health, and 
 in the face of the fierce competition in this city, are you able 
 to marry and support a penniless girl ? If, on the contrary, 
 you propose to support a wife on the property that now 
 belongs to your father and myself, our wishes should have 
 some weight. I tell you frankly that our means, though 
 large, are not sufficient to make you all independent and 
 maintain the style to which you have been accustomed. 
 With your frail health and need of exemption from care and 
 toil, you must marry wealth. Your father is well satisfied 
 that whoever allies himself to this Jocelyn family may soon 
 have them all on his hands to support. We decline the risk 
 of burdening ourselves with these unknown, uncongenial 
 people. Is there anything unreasonable in that ? Because 
 you are fascinated by a pretty face, of which there are thou 
 sands in this city, must we be forced into intimate associa 
 tions with people that are wholly distasteful to us ? This 
 would be a poor return for having shielded you so carefully 
 through years of ill health and feebleness." 
 
 The young man's head drooped lower and lower as his 
 mother spoke, and his whole air was one of utter despond 
 ency. She waited for his reply, but for a few moments he 
 did not speak. Suddenly he looked up, with a reckless, 
 characteristic laugh, and said, 
 
 " The Spartans were right in destroying the feeble chil-
 
 20 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 dren. Since I am under such obligations, I cannot resist your 
 logic, and I admit that it would be poor taste on my part 
 to ask you to support for me a wife not of your choosing." 
 
 ' ' ' Good taste ' at least should have prevented such a re 
 mark. You can choose for yourself from a score of fine 
 girls of your own station in rank and wealth." 
 
 " Pardon me, but I would rather not inflict my weakness 
 on any of the score. ' ' 
 
 ' ' But you would inflict it on one weak in social position 
 and without any means of support. ' ' 
 
 " She is the one girl that I have met with who seemed 
 both gentle and strong, and whose tastes harmonize with my 
 own. But you don't know her, and never will. You have 
 only learned external facts about the Jocelyns, and out of 
 your prejudices have created a family of underbred people 
 that does not exist. Their crime of comparative poverty I 
 cannot dispute. I have not made the prudential inquiries 
 which you and father have gone into so carefully. But your 
 logic is inexorable. As you suggest, I could not earn 
 enough myself to provide a wife with hairpins. The slight 
 considerations of happiness, and the fact that Miss Jocelyn 
 might aid me in becoming something more than a shadow 
 among men, are not to be urged against the solid reasons 
 you have named." 
 
 " Young people always give a tragic aspect to these crude 
 passing fancies. I have known ' blighted happiness ' to bud 
 and blossom again so often that you must pardon me if I act 
 rather on the ground of experience arid good sense. An 
 unsuitable alliance may bring brief gratification and pleasure, 
 but never happiness, never lasting and solid content." 
 
 " Well, mother, I am not strong enough to argue with 
 you, either in the abstract or as to these ' wise saws ' which so 
 mangle my wretched self," and with the air of one exhausted 
 and defeated he languidly went to his room.
 
 WEAKNESS. 21 
 
 Mrs. Arnold frowned as she muttered, " He makes no 
 promise to cease visiting the girl. ' ' After a moment she 
 added, even more bitterly, ' ' I doubt whether he could keep 
 such a promise ; therefore my will must supply his lack of de 
 cision ;' ' and she certainly appeared capable of making good 
 this deficiency in several human atoms. 
 
 If she could have imparted some of her firmness and reso 
 lution to Martin Jocelyn, they would have been among the 
 most useful gifts a man ever received. As the stanchness 
 of a ship is tested by the storm, so a crisis in his experience 
 was approaching which would test his courage, his fortitude, 
 and the general soundness of his manhood. Alas ! the test 
 would find him wanting. That night, for the first time in 
 his life, he came home with a step a trifle unsteady. Innocent 
 Mrs. Jocelyn did not note that anything was amiss. She 
 was busy putting her home into its usual pretty order after 
 the breezy, gusty evening always occasioned by one of Belle's 
 informal companies. She observed that her husband had re 
 covered more than his wonted cheerfulness, and seemed in- 
 deed as gay as Belle herself. Lounging on a sofa, he laughed 
 at his wife and petted her more than usual, assuring her that 
 her step was as light, and that she still looked as young and 
 pretty as any of the girls who had tripped through the parlors 
 that evening. 
 
 The trusting, happy wife grew so rosy with pleasure, and 
 her tread was so elastic from maternal pride and exultation 
 at the prospects of her daughters, that his compliments seemed 
 scarcely exaggerated. 
 
 " Never fear, Nan," he said, in a gush of feeling ; "I'll 
 take care of you, whatever happens, ' ' and the glad smile she 
 turned upon him proved that she doubted his words no more 
 than her own existence. 
 
 They were eminently proper words for a husband to ad 
 dress to his wife, but the circumstances under which they
 
 22 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 were uttered made them maudlin sentiment rather than a 
 manly pledge. As spoken, they were so ominous that the 
 loving woman might well have trembled and lost her girlish 
 flush. But even through the lurid hopes and vague pros 
 pects created by dangerous stimulants, Mr. Jocelyn saw, 
 dimly, the spectre of coming trouble, and he added, 
 
 " But, Nan, we must economize we really must" 
 
 "Foolish man!" laughed his wife; " always preaching 
 economy, but never practising it." 
 
 " Would to God I had millions to lavish on you !" he ex 
 claimed, with tears of mawkish feeling and honest affection 
 mingled as they never should in a true man's eyes. 
 
 ' ' Lavish your love, Martin, ' ' replied the wife, ' ' and 
 I'll be content." 
 
 That night she laid her head upon her pillow without mis 
 giving. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn was the daughter of a Southern planter, and 
 in her early home had been accustomed to a condition of 
 chronic financial embarrassment and easy - going, careless 
 abundance. The war had swept away her father and 
 brothers with the last remnant of the mortgaged property. 
 
 Young Jocelyn' s antecedents had been somewhat similar, 
 and they had married much as the birds pair, without know 
 ing very definitely where or how the home nest would be 
 constructed. He, however, had secured a good education, 
 and was endowed with fair business capacities. He was thus 
 enabled for a brief time before the war to provide a comfort 
 able support in a Southern city for his wife and little daughter 
 Mildred, and the fact that he was a gentleman by birth and 
 breeding gave him better social advantages than mere wealth 
 could have obtained. At the beginning of the struggle he 
 was given a commission in the Confederate army, but with 
 the exception of a few slight scratches and many hardships 
 escaped unharmed. After the conflict was over, the ex-
 
 WEAKNESS. 23 
 
 officer came to the North, against which he had so bravely 
 and zealously fought, and was pleased to find that there was 
 no prejudice worth naming against him on this account. 
 His good record enabled him to obtain a position in a large 
 iron warehouse, and in consideration of his ability to control 
 a certain amount of Southern trade he was eventually given 
 an interest in the business. This apparent advancement in 
 duced him to believe that he might safely rent, in one of the 
 many cross-streets up town, the pretty home in which we find 
 him. The fact that their expenses had always a little more 
 than kept pace with their income did not trouble Mrs. Joce- 
 lyn, for she had been accustomed to an annual deficit from 
 childhood. Some way had always been provided, and she 
 had a sort of blind faith that some way always would be. 
 Mr. Jocelyn also had fallen into rather soldier-like ways, and 
 after being so free with Confederate scrip, with difficulty 
 learned the value of paper money of a different color. 
 
 Moreover, in addition to a certain lack of foresight and fru 
 gal prudence, bred by army life and Southern open-hearted- 
 ness, he cherished a secret habit which rendered a wise, steadily 
 maintained policy of thrift well-nigh impossible. About two 
 years before the opening of our story he had been the victim of 
 a painful disease, the evil effects of which did not speedily pass 
 away. For several weeks of this period, to quiet the pain, 
 he was given morphia powders ; their effects were so agree 
 able that they were not discontinued after the physician 
 ceased to prescribe them. The subtle stimulant not only 
 banished the lingering traces of suffering, but enabled him 
 to resume the routine of business with comparative ease much 
 sooner than he had expected. Thus he gradually drifted into 
 the habitual use of morphia, taking it as a panacea for every 
 ill. Had he a toothache, a rheumatic or neuralgic twinge, 
 the drug quieted the pain. Was he despondent from any 
 cause, or annoyed by some untoward event, a small white
 
 24 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 powder soon brought hopefulness and serenity. When 
 emergencies occurred which promised to tax his mental and 
 physical powers, opium appeared to give a clearness and 
 elasticity of mind and a bodily vigor that was almost magical, 
 and he availed himself of the deceptive potency more and 
 more often. 
 
 The morbid craving which the drug inevitably engenders 
 at last demanded a daily supply. For months he employed 
 it in moderate quantities, using it as thousands do quinine, 
 wine, or other stimulants, without giving much thought to 
 the matter, sincerely intending, however, to shake off the 
 habit as soon as he felt a little stronger and was more free 
 from business cares. Still, as the employment of the stimu 
 lant grew into a habit, he became somewhat ashamed of it, 
 and maintained his indulgence with increasing secrecy a 
 characteristic rarely absent from this vice. 
 
 Thus it can be understood that his mind had ceased to 
 possess the natural poise which would enable him to manage 
 his affairs in accordance with some wisely matured system of 
 expenditure. In times of depression he would demand the 
 most rigid economy, and again he would seem careless and 
 indifferent and preoccupied. This financial vacillation was 
 precisely what his wife had been accustomed to in her early 
 home, and she thoughtlessly took her way without much re 
 gard to it. He also had little power of saying No to his 
 gentle wife, and an appealing look from her blue eyes would 
 settle every question of economy the wrong way. Next year 
 they would be more prudent ; at present, however, there 
 were some things that it would be very nice to have or to do. 
 
 But, alas, Mrs. Jocelyn had decided that, for Mildred's 
 sake, the coming summer must be spent at Saratoga. In 
 vain her husband had told her that he did not see how it was 
 possible. She would reply, 
 
 " Now, Martin, be reasonable. You know Mr. Arnold
 
 WEAKNESS. 25 
 
 spends his summers there. Would you spoil Millie' s chances 
 of making one of the best matches in the city ?" 
 
 He would shrug his shoulders and wonder where the 
 money was to come from. Meanwhile he knew that his part 
 ners were .anxious. They had been strong, and had endured 
 the evil times for years without wavering, but now were com 
 pelled to obtain a credit more and more extended, in the 
 hope of tiding themselves over the long period of depression. 
 
 This increasing business stagnation occasioned a deepening 
 anxiety to her husband and a larger resort to his sustaining 
 stimulant. While he had no sense of danger worth naming, 
 he grew somewhat worried by his dependence on the drug, 
 and it was his honest purpose to gradually abandon it as 
 soon as the financial pressure lifted and he could breathe 
 freely in the safety of renewed commercial prosperity. Thus 
 the weeks and months slipped by, finding him more com 
 pletely involved in the films of an evil web, and more intent 
 than ever upon hiding the fact from every one, especially 
 his wife and children. 
 
 He had returned on the evening of Belle's company, with 
 fears for the worst The scene in his pretty and happy home, 
 in contrast with the bitter experiences that might be near at 
 hand, so oppressed him with foreboding and trouble that he 
 went out and weakly sought temporary respite and courage 
 in a larger amount of morphia than he had ever yet taken. 
 
 While off his guard from the resulting exaltation, he met 
 a business acquaintance and was led by him to indulge in 
 wine also, with the results already narrated.
 
 26 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONFIDENTIAL. 
 
 MARTIN JOCELYN awoke with a shiver. He did 
 not remember that he had been dreaming, but a dull 
 pain in his head and a foreboding of heart had at last so 
 asserted themselves as to banish the unconsciousness of sleep. 
 His prospects had even a more sombre hue than the cold 
 gray of the morning. All the false prismatic colors of the 
 previous evening had faded, and no serene, steady light had 
 taken their place. The forced elation was followed as is 
 ever the case by a deeper despondency. The face of his 
 sleeping wife was so peaceful, so expressive of her utter un 
 consciousness of impending disaster, that he could not en 
 dure its sight. He felt himself to be in no condition to meet 
 her waking eyes and explain the cause of his fears. A sense 
 of shame that he had been so weak the evening before also 
 oppressed him, and he yielded to the impulse to gain a day 
 before meeting her trusting or questioning gaze. Something 
 might occur which would give a better aspect to his affairs, 
 and at any rate, if the worst must come, he could explain 
 with better grace in the evening than in his present wretched 
 mood, that would prove too sharp a contrast with his recent 
 gayety. 
 
 He therefore dressed silently and hastily, and left a note 
 saying that a business engagement required his early depart 
 ure. " She will have at least one more serene day before 
 the storm, ' ' he muttered.
 
 CONFIDENTIAL. 27 
 
 " Now wasn' t that kind and thoughtful of papa to let us 
 all sleep late after the company !" said Mrs. Jocelyn to Mil 
 dred. ' ' He went away, too, without his breakfast, ' ' and in 
 her gentle solicitude she scarcely ate any herself. 
 
 But weakly hiding trouble for a day was not kindness. 
 The wife and daughter, who should have helped to take in 
 sail in preparation for the threatened storm, were left uncon 
 scious of its approach. They might have noticed that Mr. 
 Jocelyn had been more than usually anxious throughout the 
 spring, but they knew so little of business and its risks, that 
 they did not realize their danger. " Men always worry 
 about their affairs," said Mrs. Jocelyn. "It's a way they 
 have. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Arnold's visits and manner were much more con 
 genial topics, and as a result of the entire confidence existing 
 between mother and daughter, they dwelt at length on these 
 subjects. 
 
 " Mamma," said Mildred, "you must not breathe of it 
 to a soul not even to papa yet. It would hurt me cruelly 
 to have it known that I think so much of one who has not 
 spoken plainly that is, in words. I should be blind indeed 
 if I did not understand the language of his eyes, his tones, 
 and manner. And yet, and yet mamma, it isn't wrong for 
 me to love to think so much of him before he speaks, is 
 it ? Dearly as I well, not for the world would I seem or 
 even be more forward than a girl should, I fear his people 
 are too proud and rich to recognize us ; and and he says 
 so little about them. I can never talk to him or any one 
 v/ithout making many references to you and papa. I have 
 thought that he even avoided speaking of his family." 
 
 " We have not yet been made acquainted with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Arnold," said Mrs. Jocelyn meditatively. " It is true 
 we attend the same church, and it was there that Vinton saw 
 you, and was led to seek an introduction. I'm sure we have
 
 28 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 not angled for him in any indelicate way. You met him in 
 the mission school and in other ways, as did the other young 
 ladies of the church. He seemed to single you out, and 
 asked permission to call. He has been very gentlemanly, 
 but you equally have been the self-respecting lady. I do not 
 think you have once overstepped the line of a proper reserve. 
 It isn't your nature to do such a thing, if I do say it. She 
 is a silly girl who ever does, for men don' t like it, and I 
 don' t blame them. Your father was a great hunter in the 
 South, Millie, and he has often said since that I was the shy 
 est game he ever followed. But, ' ' she added, with a low, 
 sweet laugh, " how I did want to be caught ! I can see 
 now," she continued, with a dreamy look back into the 
 past, " that it was just the way to be caught, for if I had 
 turned in pursuit of him he would have run away in good 
 earnest. There are some girls who have set their caps for 
 your handsome Mr. Arnold who don't know this. I am 
 glad to say, however, that you take the course you do, not 
 because you know better, but because you are better be 
 cause you have not lost in city life the shy, pure nature of 
 the wild flowers that were your early playmates. Vinton 
 Arnold is the man to discover and appreciate this truth, and 
 you have lost nothing by compelling him to seek you in 
 your own home, or by being so reserved when abroad." 
 
 While her mother's words greatly reassured Mildred, her 
 fair face still retained its look of anxious perplexity. 
 
 " I have rarely met Mrs. Arnold and her daughters," she 
 said ; " but even in a passing moment, it seemed as if they 
 tried to inform me by their manner that I did not belong to 
 their world. Perhaps they were only oblivious I don't 
 know. ' ' 
 
 " I think that is all," said Mrs. Jocelyn musingly. 
 " We have attended their church only since we came up 
 town. They sit on the farther side, in a very expensive pew,
 
 CONFIDENTIAL. 29 
 
 while papa thinks we can afford only a side seat near the 
 door. It is evident that they are proud people, but in the 
 matter of birth and good breeding, my dear, I am sure we 
 are their equals. Even when poorer than we are now we 
 were welcomed to the best society of the South. Have no 
 fears, darling. When they come to know you they will be 
 as proud of you as I am. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Oh, mother, what a sweet prophetess you are ! The life 
 you suggest is so beautiful, and I do not think I could live 
 without beauty. He is so handsome and refined, and his 
 taste is so perfect that every association he awakens is refined 
 and high-toned. It seems as if my as if he might take out 
 of my future all that is hard and coarse all that I shrink 
 from even in thought. But, mamma, I wish he were a wee 
 bit stronger. His hands are almost as white and small as 
 mine ; and then sometimes he is so very pale. ' ' 
 
 " Well, Millie, we can't have everything. City life and 
 luxury are hard on young men. It would be better for them 
 if they tramped the woods more with a gun, as your father 
 did. There was a time when papa could walk his thirty 
 miles a day and ride fifty. But manly qualities may be those 
 of the mind as well as of muscle. I gather from what Mr. 
 Arnold says that his health never has been very good ; but 
 you are the one of all the world to pet him and take care of 
 him. Most of the fashionable girls of his set would want to 
 go here and there all the time, and would wear him out with 
 their restlessness. You would be happier at home." 
 
 " Indeed I would, mamma. Home, and heaven, are words 
 that to me are near akin. ' ' 
 
 "I'm glad you are in such a fair way to win the home, but 
 not heaven I trust for a long time yet. Let us think of the 
 home first. While I would not for the world wish you to do 
 a thing which the strictest womanly delicacy did not permit, 
 there are some things which we can do that are very proper
 
 3 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 indeed. Mr. Arnold has an eye for beauty as well as your 
 self, and he is accustomed to see ladies well dressed. He 
 noticed your toilet last night as well as your face, and his big 
 brown eyes informed me that he thought it very pretty. I 
 intend that you shall appear as well as the best of them at 
 Saratoga, and what we cannot afford in expensive fabrics we 
 must make up in skill and taste. Luckily, men don't know 
 much about the cost of material. They see the general effect 
 only. A lady is to them a finished picture, and they never 
 think of inventorying the frame, canvas, and colors as a 
 woman does. For quarter of the money I' 11 make you ap 
 pear better than his sisters. So get your things, and we'll 
 begin shopping at once, for such nice work requires time." 
 They were soon in the temples of fashion on Broadway, 
 bent upon carrying out their guileless conspiracy. Neverthe 
 less their seemingly innocent and harmless action was 
 wretched folly. They did not know that it raised one more 
 barrier between them and all they sought and hoped, for they 
 were spending the little money that might save them from 
 sudden and utter poverty.
 
 "PITILESS WAVES." 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "PITILESS WAVES." 
 
 A DEEPER shadow than that of the night fell upon 
 Mildred Jocelyn' s home after the return of her father. 
 Feeling that there should be no more blind drifting toward 
 he knew not what, he had employed all the means within 
 his power to inform himself of the firm's prospects, and learned 
 that there was almost a certainty of speedy failure. He was 
 so depressed and gloomy when he sat down to dinner that 
 his wife had not the heart to tell him of her schemes to secure 
 his daughter's happiness, or of the gossamer-like fabrics she 
 had bought, out of which she hoped to construct a web that 
 would more surely entangle Mr. Arnold. Even her sanguine 
 spirit was chilled and filled with misgivings by her husband's 
 manner. Mildred, too, was speedily made to feel that only 
 a very serious cause could banish her father's wonted good- 
 humor and render him so silent. Belle and the little ones 
 maintained the light talk which usually enlivened the meal, 
 but a sad constraint rested on the others. At last Mr. Joce 
 lyn said, abruptly, ' ' Fanny, I wish to see you alone, ' ' and 
 she followed him to their room with a face that grew pale 
 with a vague dread. What could have happened ? 
 
 " Fanny," he said sadly, " our firm is in trouble. I 
 have hoped and have tried to believe that we should pull 
 through, but now that I have looked at the matter squarely 
 I see no chance for us, and from the words and bearing of 
 my partners I imagine they have about given up hope them 
 selves. ' '
 
 32 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Oh, come, Martin, look on the bright side. Yon 
 always take such gloomy views of things. They'll pull 
 through, never fear ; and if they don't, you will soon obtain 
 a better position. A man of your ability should be at the 
 head of a firm. You would make money, no matter what the 
 times were." 
 
 ' ' Unfortunately, Fanny, your sanguine hopes and absurd 
 opinion of my abilities do not change in the least the hard 
 facts in the case. If the firm fails, I am out of employment, 
 and hundreds of as good yes, better men than I, are look 
 ing vainly for almost any kind of work. The thought that 
 we have laid up nothing in all these years cut me to the very 
 quick. One thing is now certain. Not a dollar must be 
 spent, hereafter, except for food, and that of the least costly 
 kind, until I see our way more clearly. ' ' 
 
 " Gan't we go to Saratoga ?" faltered Mrs. Jocelyn. 
 
 " Certainly not. If all were well I should have had to 
 borrow money and anticipate my income in order to spend 
 2ven a few weeks there, unless you went to a cheap boarding- 
 house. If things turn out as I fear, I could not borrow a 
 dollar. I scarcely see how we are to live anywhere, much 
 Jess at a Saratoga hotel. Fanny, can't you understand my 
 situation ? Suppose my income stops, how much ahead have 
 we to live upon ?' ' 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn sank into a chair and sobbed, " Oh that I 
 had known this before .' See there !" 
 
 The bed was covered with dress goods and the airy noth 
 ings that enhance a girl's beauty. The husband understood 
 their meaning too well, and he muttered something like an 
 oath. At last he said, in a hard tone, " Well, after buying 
 all this frippery, how much money have you left ?" 
 
 " Oh, Martin," sobbed his wife, " don't speak to me in 
 that tone. Indeed I did not know we were in real danger. 
 You seemed in such good spirits last evening, and Mr.
 
 "PITILESS WAVES." 33 
 
 Arnold showed so much feeling for Millie, that my heart has 
 been as light as a feather all day. I wouldn' t have bought 
 these things if I had only known if I had realized it all. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn now uttered an unmistakable anathema on 
 his folly. 
 
 " The money you had this morning is gone, then ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' ' How much has been charged ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Don' t ask me. ' ' 
 
 He was so angry with himself more than his wife and 
 so cast down that he could not trust himself to speak again. 
 With a gesture, more expressive than any words, he turned 
 on his heel and left the room and the house. For hours he 
 walked the streets in the wretched turmoil of a sensitive, yet 
 weak nature. He was not one who could calmly meet an 
 emergency and manfully do his best, suffering patiently 
 meanwhile the ills that could not be averted. He could lead 
 a cavalry charge into any kind of danger, but he could not 
 stand still under fire. The temptation to repeat his folly of 
 the previous evening was very strong, but it had cost him so 
 dearly that he swore a great oath that at least he would not 
 touch liquor again ; but he could not refrain from lifting 
 himself in some degree out of his deep dejection, by a re 
 course to the stimulant upon which he had so long been de 
 pendent. At last, jaded and sober indeed, he returned to a 
 home whose very beauty and comfort now became the chief 
 means of his torture. 
 
 In the mean time Mildred and her mother sat by the pretty 
 fabrics that had the bright hues of their morning hopes, and 
 they looked at each other with tears and dismay. If the silk 
 and lawn should turn into crape, it would seem so in accord 
 ance with their feelings as scarcely to excite surprise. Each 
 queried vainly, ' ' What now will be the future ?' ' The 
 golden prospect of the day had become dark and chaotic, and
 
 34 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 in strong reaction a vague sense of impending disaster so op 
 pressed them that they scarcely spoke. Deep in Mildred's 
 heart, however, born of woman's trust, was the sustaining 
 hope that her friend, Vinton Arnold, would be true to her 
 whatever might happen. Poor Mrs. Jocelyn' s best hope was, 
 that the financial storm would blow over without fulfilling 
 their fears. She had often known her father to be half des 
 perate, and then there was patched up some kind of ar 
 rangement which enabled them to go on again in their old 
 way. Still, even with her unbusiness-like habits of thought 
 and meagre knowledge of the world, she could not see how 
 they could maintain themselves if her husband's income 
 should suddenly cease, and he be unable to find a like 
 position. 
 
 She longed for his return, but when he came he gave her 
 no comfort. 
 
 " Don't speak to me," he said ; " I can tell you nothing 
 that you do not already know. The events of the next few 
 weeks will make all plain enough." 
 
 The logic of events did convince even Mrs. Jocelyn that 
 making no provision for a ' ' rainy day' ' is sad policy. The 
 storm did not blow over, although it blew steadily and 
 strongly. The firm soon failed, but Mr. Jocelyn received a 
 small sum out of the assets, which prevented immediate want. 
 Mildred's course promised to justify Arnold's belief that she 
 could be strong as well as gentle, for she insisted that every 
 article obtained on credit should be taken back to the shops. 
 Her mother shrank from the task, so she went herself and 
 plainly stated their circumstances. It was a bitter experience 
 for the poor child far more painful than she had antici 
 pated. She could not believe that the affable people who 
 waited on her so smilingly a few days before would appear so 
 different ; but even those who were most inclined to be harsh, 
 and to feel aggrieved at their small loss in cutting the material
 
 "PITILESS WAVES." 35 
 
 returned, were softened as she said, gently and almost 
 humbly : 
 
 ' ' Since we could not pay for it we felt that it would be 
 more honorable to bring it back in as good condition as 
 when received." In every instance, however, in which the 
 goods had been paid for, she found that she could effect no 
 exchange for the money, except at such reduced rates that she 
 might as well give them away. 
 
 Even Mrs. Jocelyn saw the need of immediate changes. 
 One of their two servants was dismissed. Belle pouted over 
 the rigid economy, now enforced all too late. Mildred cried 
 over it in secret, but made heroic efforts to be cheerful in the 
 presence of her father and mother ; but each day, with a 
 deeper chill at heart, she asked herself a thousand times, 
 " Why does not Mr. Arnold come to see me ?" 
 
 Vinton Arnold was in even greater distress. He had to 
 endure not only the pain of a repressed affection, but also a 
 galling and humiliating sense of unmanly weakness. He, of 
 course, learned of the failure, and his father soon after took 
 pains to say significantly that one of the members of the iron 
 firm had told him that Mr. Jocelyn had nothing to fall back 
 upon. Therefore Arnold knew that the girl he loved must 
 be in sore trouble. And yet, how could he go to her ? 
 What could he say or do that would not make him appear 
 contemptible in her eyes ? But to remain away in her hour 
 of misfortune seemed such a manifestation of heartless in 
 difference, such a mean example of the world's tendency to 
 pass by on the other side, that he grew haggard and ghost 
 like in his self-reproach and self-contempt. At last his 
 parents began to insist that his health required a change of 
 air, and suggested a mountain resort or a trip abroad, and 
 he was conscious of no power to resist the quiet will with 
 which any plan decided upon would be carried out. He felt 
 that he must see Mildred once more, although what he
 
 36 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 would say to her he could not tell. While there had been 
 no conscious and definite purpose on the part of his parents, 
 they nevertheless had trained him to helplessness in mind 
 and body. His will was as relaxed as his muscles. Instead 
 of wise, patient effort to develop a feeble constitution and to 
 educate his mind by systematic courses of study, he had 
 been treated as an exotic all his days. And yet it had been 
 care without tenderness, or much manifestation of affection. 
 Not a thing had been done to develop self-respect or self- 
 reliance. Even more than most girls, he was made to feel 
 himself dependent on his parents. He had studied but 
 little ; he had read much, but in a desultory way. Of busi 
 ness and of men's prompt, keen ways he was lamentably 
 ignorant for one of his years, and the consciousness of this 
 made him shrink from the companionship of his own sex, 
 and begat a reticence whose chief cause was timidity. His 
 parents' wealth had been nothing but a curse, and they would 
 learn eventually that while they could shield his person from 
 the roughnesses of the world they could not protect his mind 
 and heart from those experiences which ever demand manly 
 strength and principle. As a result of their costly system, 
 there were few more pitiable objects in the city than Vinton 
 Arnold as he stole under the cover of night to visit the girl 
 who was hoping though more faintly after every day of wait 
 ing that she might find in him sustaining strength and love 
 in her misfortunes. 
 
 But when she saw his white, haggard face and nervous, 
 timid manner, she was almost shocked, and exclaimed, with 
 impulsive sympathy, " Mr. Arnold, you have been ill I 
 have done you wrong." 
 
 He did not quite understand her, and was indiscreet 
 enough to repeat, " You have done me wrong, Miss 
 Millie?" 
 
 " Pardon me. Perhaps you do not know that we are in
 
 "PITILESS WAVES." 37 
 
 deep trouble. My father's firm has failed, and we shall have 
 to give up our home. Indeed, I hardly know what we shall 
 do. When in trouble, one's thoughts naturally turn to one's 
 friends. I thought perhaps you would come to see me/ 7 
 and two tears that she could not repress stood in her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, that I were a man !" groaned Arnold, mentally, 
 and never had human cruelty inflicted a keener pang than 
 did Mildred's sorrowful face and the gentle reproach implied 
 in her words. 
 
 "I I have been ill," he said hesitatingly. "Miss 
 Millie," he added impulsively, " you can never know how 
 deeply I feel for you." 
 
 She lifted her eyes questioningly to his face, and its expres 
 sion was again unmistakable. For a moment she lost con 
 trol of her overburdened heart, and bowing her face in her 
 hands gave way to the strong tide of her feelings. "Oh !" 
 she sobbed, ' ' I have been so anxious and fearful about the 
 future. People have come here out of curiosity, and others 
 have acted as if they did not care what became of us, if they 
 only obtained the money we owed them. I did not think 
 that those who were so smiling and friendly a short time 
 since could be so harsh and indifferent. A thousand times I 
 have thought of that poor ship that I saw the waves beat to 
 pieces, and it has seemed as if it might be our fate. I sup 
 pose I am morbid, and that some way will be provided, but 
 some way is not a way." 
 
 Instead of coming to her side and promising all that his 
 heart prompted, the miserable constraint of his position led 
 him to turn from grief that he was no longer able to witness. 
 He went to the window, and, bowing his head against the 
 sash, looked out into the darkness. 
 
 She regarded him with wonder as she slowly wiped her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Mr. Arnold," she faltered, " I hope you will forgive me
 
 3 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 for my weakness, and also for inflicting our troubles on 
 you. ' ' 
 
 He turned and came slowly toward her. She saw that he 
 trembled and almost tottered as he walked, and that his face 
 had become ashen. The hand he gave her seemed like ice 
 to her warm, throbbing palm. But never could she forget 
 his expression the blending of self-contempt, pitiable weak 
 ness, and dejection. 
 
 " Miss Mildred," he said slowly, " there is no use in dis 
 guises. We had better both recognize the truth at once. At 
 least it will be better for you, for then you may find a friend 
 more worthy of the name. Can you not see what I am a 
 broken reed ? The vine could better sustain a falling tree 
 than I the one I loved, even though, like the vine, my heart 
 clung to that one as its sole support. You suffer ; I am in 
 torment You are sad ; I despair. You associate strength 
 and help with manhood, and you are right. You do not 
 know that the weakest thing in the world is a weak, helpless 
 man. I am only strong to surfer. I can do nothing ; I am 
 nothing. It would be impossible for me to explain how 
 helpless and dependent I am you could not understand it 
 My whole heart went out to you, for you seemed both gentle 
 and strong. The hope would grow in my soul that you 
 might be merciful to me when you came to know me as I 
 am. Good-by, Millie Jocelyn. You will find a friend strong 
 and helpful as well as kind. As for me, my best hope is to 
 die." He bowed his head upon the hand he did not venture 
 to kiss, and then almost fled from the house. 
 
 Mildred was too much overcome by surprise and feeling to 
 make any attempt to detain him. He had virtually ac 
 knowledged his love for her, but never in her wildest fancy 
 had she imagined so dreary and sad a revelation. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn, perplexed by Mr. Arnold's abrupt depart 
 ure, came in hastily, and Mildred told her, with many tears,
 
 " PITILESS WAVES." 39 
 
 all that had been said. Even her mother's gentle nature 
 could not prevent harsh condemnation of the young man. 
 
 " So h^. could do nothing better than get up this little 
 melodrama, and then hasten back to his elegant home," she 
 said, with a darkening frown. 
 
 Mildred shook her head and said, musingly, " I under 
 stand him better than you do, mamma, and I pity him from 
 the depths of my heart. ' ' 
 
 " I think it's all plain enough," said Mrs. Jocelyn, in a 
 tone that was hard and unnatural in her. " His rich parents 
 tell him that he must not think of marrying a poor girl, and 
 he is the most dutiful of sons. ' ' 
 
 :< You did not hear his words, mamma you did not see 
 him. Oh, if he should die ! He looked like death itself," 
 and she gave way to such an agony of grief that her mother 
 was alarmed on her behalf, and wept, entreated, and soothed 
 by turns until at last the poor child crept away with throb 
 bing temples to a long night of pain and sleeplessness. The 
 wound was one that she must hide in her own heart ; hef 
 pallor and languor for several days proved how deep it had 
 been. 
 
 But the truth that he loved her the belief that he could 
 never give to another what he had given to her had a secret 
 and sustaining power. Hope is a hardy plant in the hearts 
 of the young. Though the future was dark, it still had its 
 possibilities of good. Womanlike, she thought more of his 
 trouble than of her own, and that which most depressed her 
 was the fear that his health might give way utterly. " I can 
 bear anything better than his death," she said to herself a 
 thousand times. 
 
 She made no tragic promises of constancy, nor did she in 
 dulge in very much sentimental dreaming. She simply rec 
 ognized the truth that she loved him that her whole woman's 
 heart yearned in tenderness over him as one that was crippled
 
 40 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 and helpless. She saw that he was unable to stand alone 
 and act for himself, and with a sensitive pride all her own 
 she shrank from even the thought of forcing herself on the 
 proud, rich family that had forbidden the alliance. More 
 over, she was a good-hearted, Christian girl, and perceived 
 clearly that it was no time for her to mope or droop. Even 
 on the miserable day which followed the interview that so 
 sorely wounded her, she made pathetic attempts to be cheer 
 ful and helpful, and as time passed she rallied slowly into 
 strength and patience. 
 
 The father's apparent efforts to keep up under his misfor 
 tune were also a great incentive to earnest effort on her part. 
 More than once she said in substance to her mother, " Papa 
 is so often hopeful, serene, and even cheerful, that we ought 
 to try and show a like spirit Even when despondency does 
 master him, and he becomes sad and irritable, he makes so 
 brave an effort that he soon overcomes his wretched mood 
 and quietly looks on the brighter side. We ought to follow 
 his example." It would have been infinitely better had he 
 followed theirs, and found in prayer, faith, and manly courage 
 the serenity and fortitude that were but the brief, deceptive, 
 and dangerous effects of a fatal poison. 
 
 It was decided that the family should spend the summer at 
 some quiet farm-house where the board would be very in 
 expensive, and that Mr. Jocelyn, in the mean time, should re 
 main in the city in order to avail himself of any opening that 
 he might discover. 
 
 After a day or two of search in the country, he found a 
 place that he thought would answer, and the family prepared 
 as quickly as possible for what seemed to them like a journey 
 to Siberia. 
 
 Mildred's farewell to her own private apartment was full of 
 touching pathos. This room was the outward expression not 
 merely of a refined taste, but of some of the deepest feelings
 
 "PITILESS WAVES." 41 
 
 and characteristics of her nature. In its furniture and adorn 
 ment it was as dainty as her own delicate beauty. She had 
 been allowed to fit it up as she wished, and had lavished 
 upon it the greater part of her spending money. She had 
 also bestowed upon it much thought, and the skilful work 
 of her own hands had eked out to a marvellous extent the 
 limited sums that her father had been able to give her. The 
 result was a prettiness and light, airy grace which did not 
 suggest the resting-place of an ordinary flesh-and-blood girl, 
 but of one in whom the spiritual and the love of the beauti 
 ful were the ruling forces of life. 
 
 It is surprising how character impresses itself on one's sur 
 roundings. Mrs. Arnold's elegant home was a correct ex 
 pression of herself. Stately, formal, slightly rigid, decidedly 
 cold, it suggested to the visitor that he would receive the 
 courtesy to which his social position entitled him, and noth 
 ing more. It was the result of an exact and logical mind, 
 and could no more unbend into a little comfortable disorder 
 than the lady herself. She bestowed upon its costly appoint 
 ments the scrupulous care which she gave to her children, 
 and her manner was much the same in each instance. She 
 was justly called a strong character, but she made herself felt 
 after the fashion of an artist with his hammer and chisel. 
 Carved work is cold and rigid at best. 
 
 Mildred had not as yet impressed people as a strong char 
 acter. On the contrary, she had seemed peculiarly gentle 
 and yielding. Vinton Arnold, however, in his deep need 
 had instinctively half guessed the truth, for her influence 
 was like that of a warm day in spring, undemonstrative, not 
 self-asserting, but most powerful. The tongue-tied could 
 speak in her presence ; the diffident found in her a kindly 
 sympathy which gave confidence ; men were peculiarly drawn 
 toward her because she was so essentially womanly without 
 being silly. Although as sprightly and fond of fun as most
 
 4 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 young girls of her age, they recognized that she was perfectly 
 truthful and loyal to all that men even bad men most 
 honor in a woman. They always had a good time in her 
 society, and yet felt the better and purer for it. Life blos 
 somed and grew bright about her from some innate influence 
 that she exerted unconsciously. After all there was no mys 
 tery about it. She had her faults like others, but at heart 
 she was genuinely good and unselfish. The gentle mother 
 had taught her woman's best graces of speech and manner ; 
 nature had endowed her with beauty, and to that the world 
 always renders homage. 
 
 There are thousands of very pretty girls who have no love 
 for beauty save their own, which they do their best to spoil 
 by self-homage. To Mildred, on the contrary, the beautiful 
 was as essential as her daily food, and she excelled in all the 
 dainty handicrafts by which women can make a home attract 
 ive. Therefore her own little sanctum had developed like 
 an exquisite flower, and had become, as we have said, an 
 expression of herself. An auctioneer, in dismantling her 
 apartment, would not have found much more to sell than if 
 he had pulled a rose to pieces, but left intact it was as full of 
 beauty and fragrance as the flower itself. And yet her own 
 hands must destroy it, and in a brief time she must exchange 
 its airy loveliness for a bare room in a farm-house. After that 
 the future was as vague as it was clouded. The pretty trifles 
 were taken down and packed away, with tears, as if she were 
 laying them in graves.
 
 THE RUDIMENTS OF A MAN. 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE RUDIMENTS OF A MAN. 
 
 " TV y/T OTHER, I hain't no unison with it at all," said 
 J.VJL Farmer Atwood, leaning on the breakfast table 
 and holding aloft a knife and fork formidable implements 
 in his hands, but now unemployed through perturbation ol 
 mind. " I hain't no unison with it this havio' fine city 
 folks right in the family. 'Twill be pretty nigh a& bad as visit 
 ing one's rich relations. I had a week of that once, but, 
 thank, the Lord, I hain't been so afflicted since. I've seen 
 'em up at the hotel and riding by too often not to knov* 
 'em. They are half conceit and half fine feathers, and that 
 doesn't leave many qualities as are suited to a farm-house. 
 Roger and me will have to be what was it that lecturin' 
 professor called it ' deodorized ' every mornin' after feedin' 
 and cleanin' the critters. We'll have to put on our go-to' 
 meetin's, instead of sittin' down in our shirt-sleeves comfort 
 able like. I hain't no unison with it, and it's been a-grow- 
 ing on me ever since that city chap persuaded you into being 
 cook and chambermaid for his family. ' ' And Farmer At 
 wood' s knife and fork came down into the dish of ham with 
 an onslaught that would have appalled a Jew. 
 
 "The governor is right, mother," said the young man 
 referred to as Roger. " We shall all be in strait-jackets for 
 the summer." 
 
 The speaker could not have been much more than twenty 
 years old, although in form he appeared a full-grown man.
 
 44 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 As he stood wiping his hands on a towel that hung in a 
 corner of the large kitchen, which, except on state occasions, 
 also served as dining and sitting room, it might be noted that 
 he was above medium height, broad-shouldered, and strongly 
 built. When he crossed the room his coarse working dress 
 could not disguise the fact that he had a fine figure and an 
 easy bearing of the rustic, rough-and-ready style. He had 
 been out in the tall, dew-drenched grass, and therefore had 
 tucked the lower part of his trousers into his boot tops, and 
 like his father dispensed with his coat in the warm June 
 morning. As he drew a chair noisily across the floor and 
 sat down at the table, it was evident that he had a good 
 though undeveloped face. His upper lip was deeply shadowed 
 by a coming event, to which he looked forward with no little 
 pride, and his well-tanned cheeks could not hide a faint glow 
 of youthful color. One felt at a glance that his varying ex 
 pressions could scarcely fail to reveal all that the young man 
 was now or could ever become, for his face suggested a nature 
 peculiarly frank and rather matter-of-fact, or at least un- 
 awakened. The traits of careless good-nature and self-confi 
 dence were now most apparent. He had always been re 
 garded as a clever boy at home, and his rustic gallantry was 
 well received by the farmers' daughters in the neighborhood. 
 What better proofs that he was about right could a young fel 
 low ask ? He was on such good terms with himself and the 
 world, that even the event which his father so deprecated did 
 not much disturb his easy-going assurance. He doubted, in 
 his thoughts, whether the city girls would "turn up their 
 noses' ' at him, and if they did, they might, for all that he 
 cared, for there were plenty of rural beauties with whom he 
 could console himself. But, like his father, he felt that the 
 careless undress and freedom of their farm life would be crit 
 icised by the new-comers. He proposed, however, to make 
 as little change as possible in his habits and dress, and to
 
 THE RUDIMENTS OF A MAN. 45 
 
 teach the Jocelyns that country people had ' ' as good a right 
 to their ways as city people to theirs. ' ' Therefore the threat 
 ened invasion did not in the least prevent him from making 
 havoc in the substantial breakfast that Mrs. Atwood and 
 her daughter Susan put on the table in a haphazard man 
 ner, taking it from the adjacent stove as fast as it was 
 ready. A stolid-looking hired man sat opposite to Roger, 
 and shovelled in his food with his knife, with a monotonous 
 assiduity that suggested a laborer rilling a coal-bin. He 
 seemed oblivious to everything save the breakfast, and with 
 the exception of heaping his plate from time to time he was 
 ignored by the family. 
 
 The men-folk were quite well along with their meal before 
 Mrs. Atwood and Susan, flushed with their labors about the 
 stove, were ready to sit down. They were accustomed to 
 hear the farmer grumble, and, having carried their point, were 
 in no haste to reply or to fight over a battle that had been 
 won already. Roger led to a slight resumption of hostilities, 
 however, by a disposition well-nigh universal in brothers 
 to tease. 
 
 ' ' Sue, ' ' he said, ' ' will soon be wanting to get some feath 
 ers like those of the fine birds that will light in our door-yard 
 this evening." 
 
 " That's it," snarled the farmer ; " what little you make 
 will soon be on your backs or streamin' away in ribbons." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Atwood a little sharply, " it's quite 
 proper that we should have something on our backs, and if 
 we earn the money to put it there ourselves, I don't see why 
 you should complain ; as for ribbons, Sue has as good right 
 to 'em as Roger to a span-new buggy that ain' t good for any 
 thing but taking girls out in." 
 
 "What made you have the seat so narrow, Roger?" 
 asked Sue ; " you couldn't squeeze three people in to save 
 your life."
 
 4 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 "I'm content with one girl at a time," replied Roger, 
 with a complacent shrug. 
 
 " And the same girl only one time, too, from what I hear. 
 You've taken out all there are in Forestville, haven't you ?" 
 
 " Haven't got quite around yet. And then some prudent 
 mothers do think the seat a trifle narrow, and the ones I' d 
 like to take out most can't go. But there's plenty that 
 can." 
 
 " And one is as good as another," added his sister, 
 maliciously, " if she will only talk nonsense, and let you hold 
 her from falling out when you whisk over the thank-e- 
 ma' ams. ' ' 
 
 " I didn't have to go from home to learn that most girls 
 talk nonsense, ' ' laughed Roger. ' ' By the way, how did 
 you learn about the thank-e-ma'ams ? I didn't teach you." 
 
 " No, indeed ! Sisters may fall out for all that brothers 
 care." 
 
 " That depends on whose sisters they are," said Roger, 
 rising. " I now perceive that mine has been well taken 
 care of." 
 
 ' ' You think other young men have your pert ways, ' ' re 
 torted Sue, reddening. " My friends have manners." 
 
 " Oh, I see. They let you fall out, and then politely 
 pick you up. ' ' 
 
 " Come, you are both in danger of falling out now," said 
 the mother reprovingly. 
 
 Roger went off whistling to his work, and the hired man 
 lumbered after him. 
 
 ' ' Father, ' ' said Mrs. Atwood, ' ' who' 11 go down to the 
 river for the trunks ?' ' 
 
 " Well, I s'pose I'll have to," grumbled Mr. Atwood. 
 " Roger don' t want to, and Jotham can do more work in 
 the cornfield than me." 
 
 "I'm glad you're so sensible. Riding down to the river
 
 THE RUDIMENTS OF A MAN. 47 
 
 and back will be a good bit easier than hoeing corn all day. 
 The stage will be along about five, I guess, and I' 11 get sup 
 per for 'em in the sittin'-room, so you can eat in your shirt 
 sleeves, if that'll quiet your mind." 
 
 With the aspect of a November day Mr. Atwood got out 
 the great farm -wagon and jogged down to the landing on the 
 Hudson, which was so distant as to insure his absence for 
 several hours. 
 
 It was a busy day for Mrs. Atwood and Susan. Fresh 
 bread and cake were to be baked, and the rooms ' ' tidied up' ' 
 once more. A pitcher that had lost its handle was filled 
 with old-fashioned roses that persisted in blooming in a grass- 
 choked flower-bed. This was placed in the room designed 
 for Mrs. Jocelyn and the children, while the one flower vase, 
 left unbroken from the days of Roger's boyish carelessness, 
 adorned the smaller apartment that Mildred and Belle were 
 to occupy, and this was about the only element of elegance 
 or beauty that Susan was able to impart to the bare little 
 room. Even to the country girl, to whom the term " deco 
 rative art ' ' was but a vague phrase, the place seemed meagre 
 and hard in its outlines, and she instinctively felt that it 
 would appear far more so to its occupants. 
 
 " But it's the best we can afford," she sighed ; " and at 
 the prices they' 11 pay us they shouldn' t complain. ' ' 
 
 Still the day was full of pleasurable excitement and antici 
 pation to the young girl. She was aware that her mother's 
 tasks and her own would be greatly increased, but on the 
 other hand the monotony of the farm-house life would be 
 broken, and in the more distant future she saw a vista of new 
 gowns, a jaunty winter hat with a feather, and other like con 
 ditions of unalloyed happiness. Susan had dwelt thus far in 
 one of life's secluded valleys, and if she lost much because 
 her horizon was narrow she was shielded from far more. 
 Her fresh, full face had a certain pleasant, wholesome aspect,
 
 4^ WITHOUT A HOME.. 
 
 like the fields about her home in June, as she bustled about, 
 preparing for the ' ' city folks' ' whom her father so dreaded. 
 
 Roger' s buggy was not yet paid for. It was the one great 
 extravagance that Mr. Atwood had permitted for many a 
 year. As usual, his wife had led him into it, he growling and 
 protesting, but unable to resist her peculiar persistency. 
 Roger was approaching man's estate, and something must be 
 done to signalize so momentous an event. A light buggy 
 was the goal of ambition to the young men in the vicinity, 
 and Roger felt that he could never be a man without one. 
 He also recognized it as the best means of securing a wife to 
 his mind, for courting on a moonlit, shadowy road was far 
 more satisfactory than in the bosom of the young woman's 
 family. Not that he was bent on matrimony, but rather on 
 several years of agreeable preparation for it, proposing to 
 make tentative acquaintances, both numerous and miscella 
 neous. 
 
 In his impatience to secure this four-wheeled compendium 
 of happiness he had mortgaged his future, and had promised 
 his father to plant and cultivate larger areas. The shrewd 
 farmer therefore had no prospect of being out of pocket, for 
 the young man was keeping his word. The acres of the 
 cornfield were nearly double those of the previous year, and 
 on them Roger spent the long hot day in vigorous labor in 
 preference to the easy task of going to the river for the lug 
 gage. Dusty and weary, but in excellent spirits over the 
 large space that he and the hired man had " hilled up," he 
 went whistling home through the long shadows of the June 
 evening. The farm wagon stood in the door-yard piled with 
 trunks. The front entrance of the house rarely used by 
 the family was open, and as he came up the lane a young 
 girl emerged from it, and leaned for a few moments against 
 the outer pillar of the little porch, unconscious of the picture 
 she made. A climbing rose was in bloom just over her
 
 THE RUDIMENTS OF A MAN. 49 
 
 head, and her cheeks, flushed with heat and fatigue, vied 
 with them in color. She had exchanged her travelling-dress 
 for one of light muslin, and entwined in her hair a few buds 
 from the bush that covered the porch. If Roger was not 
 gifted with a vivid imagination he nevertheless saw things very 
 accurately, and before he reached the head of the lane ad 
 mitted to himself that the old ' ' front steps' ' had never been 
 so graced before. He had seen many a rustic beauty stand 
 ing there when his sister had company, but the city girl im 
 pressed him with a difference which he then could not un 
 derstand. He was inclined to resent this undefined superi 
 ority, and he muttered, ' ' Father' s right. They are birds 
 of too fine a feather for our nest. ' ' 
 
 He had to pass near her in order to reach the kitchen 
 door, or else make a detour which his pride would not per 
 mit. Indeed, the youth plodded leisurely along with his 
 hoe on his shoulder, and scrupled not to scrutinize the vision 
 on the porch with the most matter-of-fact minuteness. 
 
 " What makes her so ' down in the mouth ' ?" he queried. 
 "She doesn't fancy us barbarians, I suppose, and Forest- 
 ville to her is a howling wilderness. Like enough she'll 
 take me for an Indian." 
 
 Mildred's eyes were fixed on a great shaggy mountain in 
 the west, that was all the more dark and forbidding in its own 
 deep shadow. She did not see it, however, for her mind was 
 dwelling on gloomier shadows than the mountain cast. 
 
 As he passed he caught her attention, and stepping toward 
 him a little impatiently, she said, 
 
 ' ' I suppose you belong to the premises ?' ' 
 
 He made an awkward attempt at a bow, and said stiffly, 
 "I'm one of the Atwood chattels." 
 
 The answer was not such as she expected, and she gave him 
 a scrutinizing glance. ' ' Surely, if I have ever seen a laborer, 
 he's one," she thought, as with woman's quickness she in-
 
 $o WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 ventoried his coarse, weather-stained straw hat, blue cotton 
 shirt crossed by suspenders mended with strings, shapeless 
 trousers, once black, but now of the color of the dusty corn 
 field, and shoes such as she had never seen on the avenue. 
 Even if Roger's face had not been discolored by perspiration 
 and browned by exposure, its contrast with the visage that 
 memory kept before her but too constantly would not have 
 been pleasing. Nothing in his appearance deterred her from 
 saying briefly, " I wish you would bring those trunks to 
 our rooms. We have already waited for them some little 
 time, and Mr. Atwood said that his man would attend to 
 them when he came home from his work. ' ' 
 
 " That's all right, but I'm not his man," and with another 
 stiff bow he passed on. 
 
 " Roger," called Mrs. Atwood from the kitchen door, 
 " where's Jotham ?" 
 
 " Bringing home the cows." 
 
 " The ladies want their trunks," continued his mother, in 
 a sharp, worried tone. ' ' I wish you men-folks would see 
 to 'em right away. Why couldn't you quit work a little 
 earlier to-night?" 
 
 Roger made no reply, but proceeded deliberately to help 
 himself to a wash-basin and water. 
 
 " Look here, Roger," said his mother, in a tone she sel 
 dom used, ' ' if those trunks are not where they belong in 
 ten minutes, Susan and I'll take 'em up ourselves." 
 
 "That would be a pretty story to go out," added his 
 sister. " Little use your buggy would be to you then, for 
 no nice girl would ride with you." 
 
 " Come, come, what's the use of such a bother !" said the 
 young man irritably. " Mother knows that I'd carry the 
 trunks up on Bald-Top before I'd let her touch them. 
 That's the way it will always be with these city people, I sup 
 pose. Everybody must jump and run the moment they
 
 THE RUDIMENTS OF A MAA r . 51 
 
 speak. Father's right, and we'll have to give up our old 
 free-and-easy life and become porters and waiting-maids. " 
 
 " I've heard enough of that talk," said Mrs. Atwood em 
 phatically. " Your father's been like a drizzling north-easter 
 all day. Now I give you men-folks fair warning. If 
 you want any supper you must wake up and give me some 
 thing better than grumbling. I' m too hot and tired now to 
 argue over something that's been settled once for all." 
 
 The "warning" had the desired effect, for Mrs. Atwood 
 was the recognized head of the commissary department, and, 
 as such, could touch the secret springs of motives that are 
 rarely resisted. 
 
 The open kitchen windows were so near that Mildred 
 could not help overhearing this family jar, and it added 
 greatly to her depression. She felt that they had not only 
 lost their own home, but were also banishing the home feel 
 ing from another family. She did but scant justice to Mrs. 
 Atwood' s abundant supper, and went to her room at last with 
 that most disagreeable of all impressions the sense of being 
 an intruder. 
 
 The tired children were soon at rest, for their time of sleep 
 less trouble was far distant. Belle's pretty head drooped also 
 with the roses over the porch as the late twilight deepened. 
 To her and the little people the day had been rich in novelty, 
 and the country was a wonderland of many and varied de 
 lights. In the eyes of children the Garden of Eden survives 
 from age to age. Alas ! the tendency to leave it survives 
 also, and to those who remain, regions of beauty and mystery 
 too often become angular farms and acres. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred still more clearly illustrated the 
 truth that the same world wears a different aspect as the 
 conditions of life vary. They were going out into the wilder 
 ness. The river was a shining pathway, whose beauty was a 
 mockery, for it led away from all that they loved best. The
 
 52 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 farm-house was a place of exile, and its occupants a strange, 
 uncouth people with whom they felt that they would have 
 nothing in common. Mrs. Jocelyn merely looked forward 
 to weeks of weary waiting until she could again join her 
 husband, to whom in his despondency her heart clung with 
 a remorseful tenderness. She now almost wished that they 
 had lived on bread and water, and so had provided against 
 this evil day of long separation and dreary uncertainty. 
 Now that she could no longer rest in her old belief that there 
 would be ' ' some way' ' of tiding over every financial crisis, 
 she became a prey to forebodings equally vague that there 
 might be no way. That her husband could spend day after 
 day seeking employment, offering, too, to take positions far 
 inferior to the one he had lost, was a truth that at first be 
 wildered and then disheartened her beyond measure. She 
 felt that they must, indeed, have fallen on evil times when 
 his services went a-begging. 
 
 To Mildred the present was dark, and the future most 
 unpromising ; but deep in her heart nestled the sustaining 
 thought that she was not unloved, not forgotten. The 
 will of others, not his own, kept her lover from her side. 
 His weaknesses were of a nature that awakened her pity 
 rather than contempt. If he had been a Hercules physically 
 and a Bacon intellectually, but conceited, domineering, un 
 truthful, and of the male flirt genus from such weaknesses 
 she would have shrunk with intense repugnance. Her friends 
 thought her peculiarly gentle in disposition. They did not 
 know and she herself might rarely recognize the truth that 
 she was also very strong ; her strength on its human side con 
 sisted in a simple, unswerving fidelity to her womanly nature 
 and sense of right ; on the Divine side, God's word was to 
 her a verity. She daily said " Our Father" as a little child. 
 Has the world yet discovered a purer or loftier philosophy ?
 
 ROGER DISCOVERS A NEW TYPE. 53 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ROGER DISCOVERS A NEW TYPE. 
 
 YOUNG Atwood rose with a very definite purpose on 
 the following morning. For his mother's sake he 
 would be civil to their boarders, but nothing more. He 
 would learn just what they had a right to expect in view of 
 their business relations, and having periormed all that was 
 " nominated in the bond," would treat them with such an 
 off-hand independence that they would soon become aware 
 that he, Roger Atwood, was an entity that could exist with 
 out their admiring approval. He meant that they should 
 learn that the country was quite as large as the city, and that 
 the rural peculiarities of Forestville were as legitimate as 
 those which he associated with them, and especially with the 
 young lady who had mistaken him for the hired man. There 
 fore after his morning work in the barn-yard he sta'.ked to 
 the house with the same manner and toilet as on the previous 
 day. 
 
 But there were no haughty citizens to be toned down. 
 They were all sleeping late from the fatigues of their journey, 
 and Mrs. Atwood said she would give the " men-folks their 
 breakfast at the usual hour, because a hungry man and 
 a cross bear were nigh of kin. ' ' 
 
 The meal at first was a comparatively silent one, but Roger 
 noted with a contemptuous glance that his sister's hair was 
 arranged more neatly than he had seen it since the previous 
 Sunday, and that her calico dress, collar, and cuffs were 
 scrupulously clean.
 
 54 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Expecting company?" he asked maliciously. 
 
 She understood him and flushed resentfully. ' ' If you wish 
 to go around looking like a scarecrow, that's no reason why I 
 should, ' ' she said. ' ' The corn is too large for the crows to 
 pull now, so if I were you I would touch myself up a little. 
 I don't wonder that Miss Jocelyn mistook you for Jotham." 
 
 " It's well," retorted Roger, with some irritation, "that 
 your Miss Jocelyn has no grown brothers here, or you would 
 come down to breakfast in kid gloves. I suppose, however, 
 that they have insisted on a tidy and respectful waitress. 
 Will you please inform me, mother, what my regulation cos 
 tume must be when my services are required ? Jotham and 
 I should have a suit of livery, with two more brass buttons on 
 my coat to show that I belong to the family. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I think that a little more of the manner and appearance 
 of a gentleman would show your relationship better than any 
 amount of brass, ' ' remarked his mother quietly. 
 
 Roger was almost through his breakfast, and so, at no great 
 loss, could assume the injured part. Therefore with a dignity 
 that was somewhat in marked contrast with his rather un 
 kempt appearance he rose and stalked off to the cornfield 
 again. 
 
 " Umph," remarked Mr. Atwood sententiously, as he rose 
 and followed his son. This apparently vague utterance had 
 for his wife a definite and extended meaning. She looked 
 annoyed and flurried, and was in no mood for the labors of 
 preparing a second breakfast. 
 
 " The men-folks had better not roil me up too much," she 
 said to her daughter. " If your father had said No ! out 
 and out, I wouldn't have brought strangers into his home. 
 But he kinder wanted me to have their money without the 
 bother of having them around. Now one thing is settled 
 he must either help me make it pleasant for these people, or 
 else tell them to leave this very day."
 
 ROGER DISCOVERS A NEW TYPE. 55 
 
 " And how about Roger?" asked Susan, still under the 
 influence of pique. 
 
 " Oh, Roger is young and foolish. He's a-growing yet, " 
 and the mother's severe aspect relaxed. He was her only 
 boy. 
 
 Mr. Atwood, brought face to face with the alternative pre 
 sented by his practical wife, succumbed with tolerable grace. 
 In truth, having had his grumble out, he was not so very 
 averse to the arrangement. He was much like old Gruff, 
 their watch-dog, that was a redoubtable growler, but had 
 never been known to bite any one. He therefore installed 
 himself as his wife's out-of-door ally and assistant commis 
 sary, proposing also to take the boarders out to drive if they 
 would pay enough to make it worth the while. As for 
 Roger, he resolved to remain a farmer and revolve in his old 
 orbit. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred were listless and depressed, and 
 time hung heavily on their hands. They were in that con 
 dition of waiting and uncertainty which renders cheerful or 
 systematic occupation well-nigh impossible. They daily 
 hoped that a letter would come assuring them that Mr. Joce 
 lyn had secured a position that would change all their future 
 for the better, but the letters received recorded futile efforts 
 only, and often despondency ; but occasionally there would 
 come a letter full of vague, sanguine hopes that first pro 
 duced elation and then perplexity that nothing came of them. 
 His wife found his dejection contagious. If she had been 
 with him she would have made strenuous efforts to cheer and 
 inspirit, but without an unselfish woman's strongest motive 
 for action she brooded and drooped. Belle's irrepressible 
 vivacity and the children's wild delight over the wonders of 
 the fields and farm-yard jarred upon her sore heart painfully. 
 She patiently tried to take care of them, but in thought and 
 feeling she could net enter into their life as had been her
 
 5 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 custom. Belle was too young and giddy for responsibility, 
 and Mildred had many a weary chase after the little explorers. 
 In spite of his clearly defined policy of indifference, Roger 
 found himself watching her on such occasions with a growing 
 interest. It was evident to him that she did not in the slight 
 est degree resent his daily declaration of independence ; in 
 deed, he saw that she scarcely gave him any thoughts what 
 ever that he was to her no more than heavy-footed Jotham. 
 
 " She does not even consider me worth snubbing," he 
 thought, with much dissatisfaction, about a week subsequent 
 to their arrival. 
 
 In vain, after the labors of the day, he dressed in his best 
 suit and sported a flaming necktie ; in vain he dashed away 
 in his buggy, and, a little later, dashed by again with a rural 
 belle at his side. He found himself unable to impress the 
 city girl as he desired, or to awaken in her a sense of his 
 importance. And yet he already began to feel, in a vague 
 way, that she was not so distant to him, as distant/r0/# him. 
 
 Belle soon formed his acquaintance, asking innumerable 
 questions and not a few favors, and she found him more 
 good-natured than she had been led to expect. At last, to 
 her great delight, he took her with him in his wagon to the 
 post-office. The lively girl interested and amused him, but 
 he felt himself immeasurably older than she. With a tend 
 ency common to very young men, he was more interested in 
 the elder sister, who in character and the maturity that comes 
 from experience was certainly far beyond him. Belle he un 
 derstood, but Mildred was a mystery, and she had also the 
 advantage of being a very beautiful one. 
 
 As time passed and no definite assurances came from 
 her father, the young girl was conscious of a growing dis 
 satisfaction with the idle, weary waiting to which she and 
 her mother were condemned. She felt that it might have been 
 better for them all to have remained in the city, in spite of
 
 ROGER DISCOVERS A NEW TYPE. 57 
 
 the summer heat, than thus to be separated. She believed 
 that she might have found something to do which would 
 have aided in their support, and she understood more clearly 
 than her mother that their slender means were diminishing 
 fast. That she could do anything at a country farm -house 
 to assist her father seemed very doubtful, but she felt the 
 necessity of employment more strongly each day, not only 
 for the sake of the money it might bring, but also as an 
 antidote to a growing tendency to brood over her deep disap 
 pointment. She soon began to recognize that such self- 
 indulgence would unfit her for a struggle that might be ex 
 tended and severe, and was not long in coming to the con 
 clusion that she must make the best of her life as it was and 
 would be. Days and weeks had slipped by and had seen 
 her looking regretfully back at the past, which was receding 
 like the shores of a loved country to an exile. Since the 
 prospect of returning to it was so slight, it would be best to 
 turn her thoughts and such faint hope as she could cherish 
 toward the vague and unpromising future. At any rate she 
 must so occupy herself as to have no time for morbid self- 
 communings. 
 
 Her first resource was the homely life and interests of 
 those with whom she dwelt. Thus far she had regarded 
 them as uncongenial strangers, and had contented herself 
 with mere politeness toward them. In her sad preoccupation 
 she had taken little note of their characters or domestic life, 
 and her mother had kept herself even more secluded. In 
 deed the poor lady felt that it was hardly right to smile in 
 view of her husband's absence and misfortune, and she often 
 chided Belle for her levity ; but Belle's life was like an 
 over-full fountain in spring-time, and could not be re 
 pressed. 
 
 In her deep abstraction Mildred had seen, but had scarcely 
 noted, certain changes in the farm-house that would have
 
 58 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 interested and pleased her had her mind been at rest. Al 
 most unconsciously she had revealed her love of that which 
 is pretty and inviting ; therefore Susan, not content with 
 being neat, was inclined to brighten her costume by an oc 
 casional ribbon, and to suggest comparisons between her 
 fresh and youthful bloom and an opening flower that she 
 would fasten in her hair as the summer day declined. So 
 far from resenting this imitation of her own habits and 
 tastes, Mildred at last recognized the young girl's awakening 
 perceptions of womanly grace with much satisfaction. Even 
 poor Mrs. Atwood exhibited a tendency to emerge from her 
 chronic and rather forlorn condition of household drudge. 
 For years she had known and thought of little else save 
 sordid work, early and late. The income from the small 
 farm permitted no extra help except on rare occasions, and 
 then was obtained under protest from her husband, who 
 parted with a dollar as he would wim a refractory tooth. 
 His strong and persistent will had impressed itself on his 
 family, and their home life had been meagre and uninviting ; 
 the freedom and ease that he and Roger were so loath to lose 
 consisting chiefly in careless dress and a disregard of the little 
 refinements and courtesies of life. 
 
 It was with some self-reproach that Mildred admitted that 
 for nearly a month she had practically ignored these people, 
 and that she was becoming se ] fish in her trouble ; and .yet, 
 not so much from a sense of duty, as from a kindling zest 
 in life, she began to take an interest in them and their ways. 
 She was still far too young for her spirit to lose its spring, 
 even under a continuous weight of misfortune. Her nature 
 was not morbid, but sunny and wholesome, and when with 
 the children and Belle unexpected smiles would brighten 
 her face like glints of sunshine here and there on a cloudy 
 day. Deep as had been her wounds, she found that there 
 were moments when she half forgot their pain, and an in-
 
 ROGER DISCOVERS A NEW TYPE. 59 
 
 stinct of self-preservation taught her that it would be best to 
 forget them as far as possible. 
 
 When the thought of trying to refine the somewhat rude 
 household in which she dwelt occurred to her, she discovered 
 that the work was already well begun, for the chief condition 
 of success was present the disposition to do as she would 
 like. The Atwoods soon surmised that the family was in 
 trouble of some kind, and were able to distinguish between 
 pride of caste and a sorrowful preoccupation. It was scarcely 
 in Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred's nature to speak otherwise 
 than gently and kindly, and so without trying they disarmed 
 their hosts and won their sympathy. Notwithstanding their 
 dejection and lassitude, they maintained the habits of their 
 lives, and unwittingly gave Mrs. Atwood and her daughter a 
 vague impression that neatness, attractiveness, and order were 
 as essential as good morals. 
 
 At first Roger had dressed more roughly than ever, in order 
 to assert his right to his old ways, but as Mildred did not 
 protest even by a glance, he next took pains to show her 
 that he had ' ' good clothes " if he chose to wear them. 
 This fact she also accepted without the faintest interest, and 
 so at last he was rather nonplussed. He was not accustomed 
 to being politely ignored, and since he felt a growing interest 
 in this new type of girl, he had an increasing desire to 
 make her aware of his existence. ' ' Hang it all, ' ' he would 
 mutter, " I'm no more to her than Jotham and the other 
 farm animals. What can a fellow do to make her look at 
 him as if she saw him ? She's very kind and polite and all 
 that ; she'd as soon hurt the brindle cow as me, but this 
 fact is not very flattering. However, I'll find you out, my 
 lady, and you too shall learn that the one whom you now 
 regard as an object merely has a will and a way of his 
 own. ' ' 
 
 Therefore it may be guessed that in Roger Mildred might
 
 60 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 discover more docility and plastic readiness than she desired. 
 Only old Mr. Atwood and Jotham seemed incorrigible mate 
 rial ; but she did not despair even of them, and resolved to 
 set about reclaiming this family from barbarism at once.
 
 COMPARISONS. 6 1 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 COMPARISONS. 
 
 " TV/T RS< ATWOOD '" said Mildred one Saturday even- 
 
 .IV JL ing, " I'll go with you to church to-morrow if you'll 
 let me. Belle has been once, and it will be my turn to 
 morrow. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, certainly, miss ; you will go with Roger in the 
 buggy, I s'pose, like Miss Belle." 
 
 " If you please, I'd rather go with you." 
 
 " Really, miss, the roads have been muddy of late, and the 
 wagon isn't very nice." 
 
 " I would rather go with you," pleaded Mildred, with an 
 appeal in her blue eyes that few resisted. 
 
 " Father," said Mrs. Atwood, as soon as her husband 
 came in, " Miss Jocelyn wishes to go with us to meeting to 
 morrow. Can't you or Roger tidy up the wagon a bit? 
 'Tain't fit for her to ride in." 
 
 " There 'tis again more time spent in fixing up and fuss 
 ing than in looking after the main chance. You are all 
 gettin' too fine for plain farmin' people." 
 
 " I don't see why plain farming people need enjoy mud 
 more' n other folks. You ought to be ashamed to ask your 
 wife and daughter to ride in such a wagon. ' ' 
 
 " I don't know why I should be more ashamed to-morrow 
 than on any other Sunday, and you was never ashamed 
 before. Your boarders don't seem inclined to take any 
 rides and pay lor them, so I don't see why I should fix up
 
 03 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 any more'n usual. Anyhow, it's too late now ; Jotham'y 
 gone home, I'm too tired, and Roger's dressed to go out. 
 \Yhv can't she go with Roger ?" 
 
 ' ' She says she' d rather go with us, and if you men-folks 
 let her ride in that wagon I hope the minister will give you a 
 scorching sermon" and she turned toward her son, who, 
 dressed in his rural finery, was finishing an early supper. 
 To her surprise he, from whom she expected no aid, gave 
 her a significant nod and put his finger on his lips. He had 
 already decided upon one bold stratagem, in the hope of 
 opening Mildred's eyes, and if this failed his mother's words 
 suggested another line of policy. 
 
 ' ' Sue, ' ' he said, with affected carelessness, ' ' I may bring 
 Amelia Stone to spend part of the evening with you. 
 
 ' ' Amelia Stone isn' t my style, if the young men do say 
 she's the prettiest girl in town." 
 
 " If you don't treat her well she'll think you're jealous," 
 said Roger, and with this artful stroke he departed to carry 
 out his experiment. " I'll teach my city lady that I'm not 
 a clodhopper that other girls won't look at," he thought as 
 he drove away. 
 
 Everything went according to his mind, for Amelia broke 
 an engagement in order to come with him, and was very 
 friendly. The young fellow thought that Mildred must see 
 that he was not a person to be politely ignored when so hand 
 some a girl was flattering in her favors. Susan would not be 
 thought jealous for the world, and so was rather effusive over 
 Miss Stone. She also imbibed the idea that it might be a 
 good chance to make Mildred aware that they knew some 
 nice, stylish people ; therefore, as the rural beauty mounted 
 the steps of the porch she introduced her to Mildred and 
 Belle. Roger meanwhile stood near, and critically compared 
 the two girls. They certainly represented two very different 
 types, and he might have brought a score of his acquaintances
 
 COMPARISONS. 63 
 
 that would have been more to Mildred' s taste than the florid 
 beauty whose confidence was boldness, and who had inven 
 toried her own pronounced charms more often than had any 
 of her admirers. One girl was a lily, with a character like a 
 delicate, elusive fragrance ; the other, a tulip, very striking, 
 especially at a distance. The one no more asserted herself 
 than did the summer evening ; the manner of the other the 
 same as button-holed all present, and demanded attention. 
 Her restless black eyes openly sought admiration, and would 
 speedily sparkle with anger and malice should their request 
 be unrewarded. Roger was quick enough to feel Mildred's 
 superiority, although he could scarcely account for it, and 
 he soon experienced so strong a revulsion of feeling toward 
 his unconscious ally, that he would have taken her home 
 again with a sense of relief. 
 
 " If Miss Jocelyn thinks that's the style of girl that takes 
 with me, I might as well have remained a scarecrow. Amelia 
 Stone seems loud as a brass band beside her, ' ' and his gal 
 lantries perceptibly diminished. 
 
 True to her nature, Amelia assumed toward him what she 
 imagined were very pretty airs of proprietorship. Roger 
 knew well that her manner would have been the same toward 
 the youth with whom, from a sudden caprice, she had broken 
 her engagement for the evening. Her habitual coquetry 
 nevertheless unwittingly carried out his original programme 
 with a success that made him grind his teeth with rage, for 
 he supposed that Mildred would gain the idea that they were 
 congenial spirits drawn together by strong affinities. 
 
 And she, half divining his vexation, shrewdly increased it 
 by pretending to associate him with the transparent coquette, 
 while at the same time manifesting disapproval of her by a 
 fine reserve. Amelia felt herself scanned quietly, coldly, and 
 half curiously, as if she belonged to some strange and hitherto 
 unknown type, and her vivacious egotism began to fail her.
 
 64 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 She was much relieved therefore when Mildred excused her 
 self and went to her room, for careless, light-hearted, and 
 somewhat giddy Belle imposed no restraint. Roger, how 
 ever, did not recover himself, for he saw that he had made a 
 false step in his effort to win recognition from Mildred, and 
 he waited impatiently until his companion should suggest 
 returning. This she soon did, and they rode toward her 
 home with a mutual sense of dissatisfaction. At last Amelia 
 broke out, " I think she's absurdly proud !" 
 
 " Who ?" Roger asked demurely. 
 
 " You know who well enough. I thank my stars we have 
 no city folks putting on airs around our house. I suppose 
 you think her perfection. You looked as if you did. ' ' 
 
 "I'm not acquainted with her," he said quietly. 
 
 " Not acquainted ! Darsn't you speak to her high 
 mightiness then ?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, yes, I can speak to her when there is occasion, but 
 that does not make one acquainted. I don't understand 
 her. ' ' 
 
 "I do, perfectly. She thinks herself a wonderful deal 
 better than you or me. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Perhaps she is, ' ' he admitted. 
 
 " Well ! that's a nice speech to make to me! I was a fool 
 to break my engagement and go with you." 
 
 " All right," responded Roger, with satirical good-nature, 
 as he assisted her to alight ; " we'll both know better next 
 time. 
 
 She would not speak to him again, but he escorted her to 
 her door, and bowed in parting with mocking politeness. In 
 stead of inviting him in, as \vas her custom, she closed the 
 door with a sharpness that spoke volumes. 
 
 " I don't believe Miss Jocelyn ever banged a door like 
 that in her life," he muttered with a smile as he hastened 
 homeward.
 
 COMPARISONS. 65 
 
 Hearing unusual sciunds in the farm-yard before retiring, 
 Mildred peeped out from under her curtain. The moonlight 
 revealed that Roger was washing the wagon with a vigor that 
 made her laugh, and she thought, ' ' After what I have seen 
 this evening, I think I can civilize him."
 
 66 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CHANGES. 
 
 BENT upon carrying out her project of introducing 
 among the Atwoods a more gracious and genial fam 
 ily life, and lured by the fresh coolness of the summer morn 
 ing, Mildred left her room earlier than usual. Mrs. Atwood, 
 whose one indulgence was a longer sleep on the day of rest, 
 came down not very long after and began bustling about the 
 kitchen. Hitherto their meals had been served to the Joce- 
 ]yns in the sitting-room, the farmer and his family eating as 
 before in the kitchen. Mildred felt that they had no right 
 to impose this extra labor on Mrs. Atwood, especially on the 
 Sabbath, and she also thought it would do her mother good 
 to be roused from the listless apathy into which she was sink 
 ing. These were her chief motives, but she knew that at no 
 other place could people be taught the refinements of life 
 more effectually than at the table, and it was her plan to 
 bring about the changes she desired, without appearing to be 
 the conscious cause. 
 
 ' ' Mrs. Atwood, ' ' she said, ' ' why can we not all take our 
 breakfast together in the sitting - room this morning ? I 
 have noticed that your hired man is absent on Sundays" 
 her zeal for reform would not induce her to sit down with 
 Jotham " and I can see no reason why you should have the 
 task to-day of preparing two meals. Of course, if this is not 
 agreeable to you let there be no change, but do not put your 
 self to the extra trouble on our account. ' '
 
 CHANGES. 67 
 
 " Well, now, miss, you are very kind, and to tell you the 
 truth, I was thinking of this very thing, but we don' t wish to 
 intrude." 
 
 " Intrude, Mrs. Atwood !" exclaimed Mildred, assuming 
 surprise. " I don't understand you, and shall now feel hurt 
 if we do not take our meals together to-day. ' ' 
 
 " It's very good of you to think of us, and Susan and me 
 will have a more restful day." 
 
 Mildred gave her one of her rare smiles, which Mrs. Atwood 
 said ' ' lighted up the old kitchen like a ray of sunshine, ' ' and 
 then went to prepare her mother and sister for the change. 
 Belle was pleased, as she ever was with novelty. 
 
 " Millie," she cried, " you shall sit next to that great an 
 imal, Jotham, and if you don' t take care he' 11 eat you un 
 awares. ' ' 
 
 " Jotham is not here to-day, and I'll have him fed in the 
 kitchen hereafter." 
 
 ' ' Have you become mistress of the farm-house ? Has 
 Roger made proposals ? Won' t it be fun to hear Mr. At 
 wood grumble ! There is nothing I enjoy more than to hear 
 him grumble and old Gruff growl. They must be chips ofl 
 the same block." 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn shrank from seeing and speaking to any one, 
 but was much too unselfish to impose extra tasks on Mrs. 
 Atwood. 
 
 Susan soon came down to assist her mother, and was de 
 lighted at the prospect of taking her meals in the sitting-room, 
 feeling that it was a decided social promotion. Moreover, 
 like all young girls, she longed for companionship, and be 
 lieved that Mildred would now be more approachable. 
 
 By and by Roger came from the barn-yard in his working- 
 clothes, and seeing no preparations for breakfast in the kitch 
 en, exclaimed, 
 
 " So we heathen must sit down to the second table to-day."
 
 68 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 1 Yes, if you wish. Susan and me are going to take our 
 breakfast in the sitting-room with Mrs. Jocelyn and her 
 family. ' ' 
 
 " Am I not invited ?" he asked a little anxiously. 
 
 ' ' There' s no need of any invitation. You have as much 
 right there as I have, only I would not come in looking like 
 that." 
 
 " They won't like it this new arrangement." 
 
 1 ' It seems to me that you have grown very considerate of 
 what they like," put in Susan. 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn proposed it herself," Mrs. Atwood said, 
 " and if you and father would fix up a little and come in 
 quietly and naturally it would save a deal of trouble. If I 
 can't get a little rest on Sunday I'll wear out." 
 
 Roger waited to hear no more, and went hastily to his 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Atwood was more intractable. He distinguished the 
 Sabbath from the rest of the week, by making the most of his 
 larger leisure to grumble. 
 
 " I'm in no state to sit down with those people," he 
 growled, after the change and the reasons for it had been ex 
 plained to him. 
 
 " I'm glad you feel so," his wife replied ; " but your old 
 clothes have not yet grown fast to you ; you can soon fix 
 yourself up, and you might as well dress before breakfast as 
 after it." 
 
 He was perverse, however, and would make no greater 
 concession to the unwelcome innovation than to put on his 
 coat. Mildred smiled mentally when she saw him lowering 
 at the head of the table, but an icicle could no more continue 
 freezing in the sun than he maintain his surly mood before 
 her genial, quiet greeting. It suggested courtesy so irresist 
 ibly, and yet so unobtrusively, that he already repented his 
 lack of it. Still, not for the world would he have made any
 
 CHANGES. 69 
 
 one aware of his compunctions. Mrs. Atwood and Susan 
 had their doubts about Roger, fearing that he would rebel 
 absolutely and compel a return to their former habits. They 
 were all scarcely seated, however, before he appeared, a little 
 flushed from his hasty toilet and the thought of meeting one 
 who had been cold and disapproving toward the belle of 
 Forestville, but Mildred said " good-morning " so affably 
 and naturally that he was made quite at ease, and Mrs. Joce- 
 lyn, who had seemed unapproachable, smiled upon him so 
 kindly that he was inclined to believe her almost as pretty as 
 her daughter. As for Belle and the children, he already felt 
 well acquainted with them. Mrs. Atwood and Susan looked 
 at each other significantly, for Roger was dressed in his best 
 and disposed to do his best. Mildred saw the glance, and felt 
 that the young fellow deserved some reward, so she began 
 talking to him in such a matter-of-course way that before he 
 Was aware he was responding with a freedom that surprised 
 all the family, and none more than himself. Mildred was 
 compelled to admit that the " young barbarian," as she had 
 characterized him in her thoughts, possessed, in the item of 
 intelligence, much good raw material. He not only had 
 ideas, but also the power of expressing them, with freshness and 
 vivacity. She did not give herself sufficient credit for the 
 effects that pleased her, or understand that it was her good 
 breeding and good will that banished his tongue-tied embar 
 rassment. The most powerful influences are usually the 
 most subtle, and Roger found, as had Vinton Arnold and 
 others, that for some cause Mildred evoked the best there was 
 in him. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Jocelyn did not have very much to say. Her 
 depression was too deep to be thrown off appreciably, but she 
 replied to Mrs. Atwood' s remarks with her wonted gentleness. 
 Belle's spirits soon passed all bounds, and one of her wild 
 sallies provoked a grim smile from even Mr. Atwood, and
 
 70 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 she exulted over the fact all day. In brief, the ice seemed 
 quite broken between the family and the " boarders." 
 
 The old farmer could scarcely believe his eyes when he 
 went out to harness the horses to me three-seated wagon, for 
 it was neat and clean, with buffalo robes spread over the 
 seats. " Well," he ejaculated, " what's a-coming over this 
 here family, anyway ? I' m about all that' s left of the old rusty 
 times, and rusty enough I feel, with everybody and everything 
 so fixed up. I s'pose I'll have to stand it Sundays, and the 
 day' 11 be harder to git through than ever. To-morrow I' 11 
 be back in the kitchen again, and can eat my victuals without 
 Miss Jocelyn looking on and saying to herself, ' He ain' t 
 nice ; he don' t look pretty ; * and then a-showin' me by the 
 most delicate little ways how I ought to perform. She's got 
 Roger under her thumb or he wouldn't have cleaned up this 
 wagon in the middle of the night, for all I know, but I'm 
 too old and set to be made over by a girl." 
 
 Thus grumbling and mumbling to himself, Mr. Atwood 
 prepared to take his family to the white, tree-shadowed 
 meeting-house, at which he seldom failed to appear, for the not 
 very devotional reason that it helped him to get through the 
 day. Like the crab-apple tree in the orchard, he was a child 
 of the soil, and savored too much of his source. 
 
 Roger was of finer metal, and while possessing his father') 
 shrewdness, hard common-sense and disposition to hit th&. 
 world between the eyes if it displeased him, his nature was 
 ready at slight incentive, to throw off all coarseness and vul 
 garity. The greater number of forceful American citizens are 
 recruited from the ranks of just such young men strong, 
 comparatively poor, somewhat rude in mind and person at 
 the start, but of such good material that they are capable of a 
 fine finish. 
 
 Roger had grown naturally, and healthily, thus far. He 
 had surpassed the average bov on the play-ground, and had
 
 CHANGES. 71 
 
 fallen slightly below him in the school-house, but more from 
 indifference and self-assurance than lack of ability. Even 
 his father' s narrow thrift could not complain of his work when 
 he would work, but while a little fellow he was inclined to 
 independence, and persisted in having a goodly share of his 
 time for the boyish sports in their season, and for all the books 
 of travel and adventure he could lay his hands upon. In 
 spite of scoldings and whippings he had sturdily held his 
 own, and at last his father had discovered that Roger could be 
 led much better than driven, and that by getting him inter 
 ested, and by making little agreements, like that concerning 
 the buggy, the best of the bargain could always be obtained, 
 for the youth would then work with a will and carry out his 
 verbal contracts in a large, good-natured way. Therefore 
 Mildred's belief that he was good raw material for her human 
 izing little experiment had a better foundation than she knew. 
 Indeed, without in the least intending it, she might awaken a 
 spirit that would assert itself in ways as yet undreamed of by 
 either of them. The causes which start men upon their 
 careers are often seemingly the most slight and casual. Mil 
 dred meant nothing more than to find a brief and kindly- 
 natured pastime in softening the hard lives and in rounding 
 the sharp angles of the Atwood family, and Roger merely 
 came in for his share of her attention. Flesh and spirit, how 
 ever, are not wood and stone, and she might learn in deep sur 
 prise that her light aesthetic touches, while producing pleasing 
 changes in externals, had also awakened some of the pro- 
 foundest motives and forces that give shape and color to life. 
 In smiling ignorance of such possibilities, she said to him 
 as she came out on the porch dressed for church, " You have 
 given your mother and me also a pleasant surprise, and we 
 shall enjoy our ride to church far more, not only because the 
 wagon is nice and clean, but also because of your thought' 
 fulness of our pleasure. The wagon looked so inviting from
 
 7 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 our windows that I have induced my mother to go, and to 
 take the children. I think they will keep still We will sit 
 near the door, and I can take them out if they get tired." 
 
 Her words were very simple, but she spoke them with a 
 quiet grace all her own, while pulling her glove over a hand 
 that seemed too small and white for any of the severer tasks 
 of life. As she stood there in her pretty summer costume, a 
 delicate bloom in her cheeks relieving the transparent fair 
 ness of her complexion, she seemed to him, as Amelia Stone 
 had said, perfect indeed and the young girl could not sup 
 press a smile at the almost boyish frankness of his admiration. 
 
 ' ' You gave me a pleasant surprise, also, ' ' he said, flushing 
 deeply. 
 
 " I ?" with a questioning glance. 
 
 ' Yes. You have brought about a pleasant change, and 
 made breakfast something more than eating. You have made 
 me feel that I might be less nigh of kin to Jotham than I 
 feared. ' ' 
 
 " I shall imitate your frankness," she replied, laughing ; 
 " you are not near so nigh of kin to him as I feared." 
 
 " I have not forgotten that you thought me identical with 
 him," he could not forbear saying. 
 
 " I did not mean to hurt your feelings," she answered, 
 with deepening color. 
 
 " Oh, you were not to blame in the least," he said good- 
 naturedly. " I deserved it" 
 
 " You must remember, too," she continued, deprecatingly, 
 ' ' that I am a city girl, and not acquainted with country ways, 
 and so have charity." Then she added earnestly, " We do 
 not want to put a constraint on your family life, or make 
 home seem less homelike to you all. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn with Belle and the children were descending 
 the stairs. " I misunderstood you, Miss Jocelyn," said 
 Roger, with a penitent look, and he hastily strode away.
 
 CHANGES. 73 
 
 "I've disarmed him," thought Mildred, with a half smile. 
 She had, a little too completely. 
 
 Belle claimed her old place with Roger, and their light 
 wagon was soon lost in the windings of the road. 
 
 "Millie," whispered Belle, as the former joined her at 
 church, " what could you have said to Roger to make him 
 effervesce so remarkably ? I had to remind him that it was 
 Sunday half a dozen times." 
 
 " What a great boy he is !" answered Mildred. 
 
 " The idea of my teaching him sobriety seemed to amuse 
 him amazingly." 
 
 " And no wonder. You are both giddy children." 
 
 " Until to-day, when you have turned his head, he has 
 been very aged in manner. Please let him alone hereafter ; 
 he is my property. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Keep him wholly, ' ' and the amused look did not pass 
 from Mildred's face until service began. 
 
 Dinner was even a greater success than breakfast Mrs. 
 Jocelyn had become better acquainted with Mrs. Atwood 
 during the drive, and they were beginning to exchange house 
 keeping opinions with considerable freedom, each feeling 
 that she could learn from the other. Fearing justly that a 
 long period of poverty might be before them, Mrs. Jocelyn 
 was awakening to the need of acquiring some of Mrs. At 
 wood' s power of making a little go a great way, and the 
 thought of thus becoming able to do something to assist her 
 absent husband gave her more animation than she had yet 
 shown in her exile. Mildred ventured to fill her vase with 
 some hardy flowers that persisted in blooming under neglect, 
 and to place it on the table, and she was greatly amused to 
 see its effect on Roger and Mr. Atwood. The latter stared 
 at it and then at his wife. 
 
 ' ' Will any one take some of the flowers ?' ' he asked at last, 
 in ponderous pleasantry.
 
 74 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " I think we all had better take some, father," said Roger. 
 " I would not have believed that so little a thing could 
 have made so great a difference. ' ' 
 
 " Well, what is the difference.?" 
 
 ' ' I don' t know as I can express it, but it suggests that a 
 great deal might be enjoyed that one could not put in his 
 mouth or his pocket. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Mr. Roger, ' ' cried Belle, ' ' you are coming on famously. 
 I didn't know that you were inclined, hitherto, to put 
 everything you liked in your mouth or pocket. What escapes 
 some people may have had. 
 
 " I never said I liked you," retorted the youth, with a 
 touch of the broad repartee with which he was accustomed to 
 hold his own among the girls in the country. 
 
 ' ' No, but if I saw that you liked some one else I might be 
 alarmed " and she looked mischievously toward Mildred. 
 
 For reasons inexplicable to himself, he fell into a sudden 
 confusion at this sally. 
 
 With a warning glance at the incorrigible Belle, whose vital 
 elements were frolic and nonsense, Mildred began talking to 
 Mr. Atwood about the great hotel a few miles distant. 
 
 " Would you like to go there ?" asked Roger after a little. 
 
 " No," she said ; "I have not the slightest wish to go 
 there." Indeed there was nothing that she shrank from 
 more than the chance of meeting those who had known her 
 in the city. 
 
 Later in the day Susan said to her mother, with much satis 
 faction, " She's not stuck up at all, and we might have 
 found ft out before. I can't go back to the kitchen and live 
 in our old haphazard way. I can see now that it wasn't nice 
 at all." 
 
 "We'll see," said the politic Mrs. Atwood. "We 
 mustn't drive father too fast." 
 
 Roger felt that at last he was getting acquainted, and he
 
 CHANGES. 75 
 
 looked forward to the long summer evening with much hope. 
 But nothing happened as he expected, for Mildred was silent 
 and preoccupied at supper, and Mrs. Jocelyn appeared to 
 have relapsed into her old depression. 
 
 Instead of going out in his buggy to spend the evening 
 with one of his many favorites, as had been his custom, he 
 took a book and sat down under a tree near the porch, so that 
 he might join Mildred if she gave him any encouragement to 
 do so. Belle found him taciturn and far removed from his 
 gay mood of the morning, and so at last left him in peace. 
 
 Sue was entertaining a rural admirer in the parlor, which 
 was rarely used except on such momentous occasions, and all 
 was propitious for a quiet talk with the object of his kindling 
 interest His heart beat quickly as he saw her appear on the 
 porch with her hat and shawl, but instead of noticing him she 
 went rapidly by with bowed head and climbed an eminence 
 near the house, from which there was an extended view to 
 the southward. He felt, as well as saw, that she wished to 
 be alone, that he was not in her thoughts, that she was still 
 as distant from him as he had ever imagined her to be. The 
 shadows deepened, the evening grew dusky, the stars came 
 out, and yet she did not return. For a long time he could see 
 her outline as she sat on the hill top, and then it faded. He 
 knew she was in trouble, and found a vague pleasure in watch 
 ing with her, in remaining within call should she be fright 
 ened, knowing, however, that there was little danger of this in 
 quiet Forestville. Still, the illusion that he was in some sense 
 her protector pleased him in his sentimental mood, and in 
 after years he often recalled this first faint foreshadowing of 
 his lot. 
 
 Could he have seen the poor girl, when at last, conscious 
 of solitude and darkness, she gave way to the passionate grief 
 that, for her mother's sake, she had so long repressed, he 
 would have felt that she was distant indeed far removed by
 
 7 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 experiences of which he as yet knew nothing. She had been 
 gazing southward, toward the city in which her father was 
 vainly seeking a foothold on the steep incline up which the 
 unfortunate must struggle, and in fancy she saw him lonely, 
 dejected, and deprived of the family life of which he was so 
 fond. Her sympathy for him was as deep as her strong 
 affection. But in spite of her will her thoughts would recur 
 to the beautiful dream which had been shattered in that dis 
 tant city. Not a word had she heard from Arnold since leav 
 ing it, and her heart so misgave her concerning the future 
 that she threw herself on the sod, sobbing bitterly, and almost 
 wishing that she were beneath it and at rest. In the deep 
 abstraction of her grief she had scarcely noted the lapse of 
 time, nor where she was, and the moon had risen when she 
 again glided by Roger, her step and bearing suggesting las 
 situde and dejection. 
 
 Soon after he entered the sitting-room, where he found his 
 mother with a troubled look on her face. "Roger," she 
 said, ' ' I feel sorry for these people. When I went up-stairs a 
 while ago I heard Mrs. Jocelyn crying in her room, and com 
 ing down with the lamp I met the young lady on the stairs, 
 and her eyes were very red. It's certain they are in deep 
 trouble. What can it be? It's queer Mr. Jocelyn doesn't 
 come to see them. I hope they are all right." 
 
 ' ' Mother, ' ' he burst out impetuously, ' ' they are all right 
 she is, anyway," and he went abruptly to his room. 
 
 " Well," remarked the bewildered woman sententiously, 
 " there never were such goings on in the old house before." 
 
 An event momentous to her had indeed taken place 
 Roger's boyish days were over.
 
 NEITHER BOY NOR MAN. 77 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NEITHER BOY NOR MAN. 
 
 two following weeks passed uneventfully at the 
 JL farm-house, but silent forces were at work that were 
 as quiet and effective as those of Nature, who makes her vital 
 changes without ever being observed in the act. In respect 
 to the domestic arrangements Mrs. Atwood effected a sensible 
 compromise. She gave the men-folk an early breakfast in 
 the kitchen, so that they might go to their work as usual, and 
 her boarders were thus not compelled to rise at an unaccus 
 tomed hour. She and Susan afterward sat down with them, 
 and Mr. Atwood and Roger joined them at dinner and sup 
 per. On the Monday following the scenes described in the 
 last chapter, Mildred and Mrs. Jocelyn were listless and un 
 able to recover even the semblance of cheerfulness, for a let 
 ter from Mr. Jocelyn informed them that he was making 
 very little headway, and that some agencies which he accepted 
 yielded but a scanty income. Mildred chafed more bitterly 
 than ever over her position of idle waiting, and even grew 
 irritable under it. More than once Roger heard her speak 
 to Belle and the children with a sharpness and impatience 
 which proved her not angelic. This did not greatly disturb 
 him, for he neither " wanted to be an angel " nor wished to 
 have much to do with uncomfortable perfection. A human, 
 spirited girl was quite to his taste, and he was quick-witted 
 enough to see that unrest and anxiety were the causes of her 
 temper. Poor Mrs. Jocelyn was too gentle for irritation, and 
 only grew more despondent than ever at hope deferred.
 
 7 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Millie," she said, " I have dreadful forebodings, and 
 can never forgive myself that I did not think night and day 
 how to save instead of how to spend. What should we do if 
 we had no money at all ?" 
 
 " Belle and I must go to work," said Mildred, with a 
 resolute face, ' ' and it' s a shame we are not at work now. ' ' 
 
 " What can you do when your father can do so little ?" 
 
 " Other poor people live ; so can we. I can't stand this 
 wretched waiting and separation much longer," and she 
 wrote as much to her father. In the hope of obtaining a re 
 sponse favorable to her wishes she became more cheerful. 
 Every day increased her resolution to put an end to their sus 
 pense, and to accept their lot with such fortitude as they 
 could command. 
 
 One morning she found Mr. and Mrs. Atwood preparing 
 to go to the nearest market town with butter, eggs, and other 
 farm produce. She readily obtained permission to accom 
 pany them, and made some mysterious purchases. From 
 this time onward Roger observed that she was much in her 
 room, and that she went out more for exercise than from the 
 motive of getting through with the weary, idle hours. For 
 some reason she also gained such an influence over thought 
 less Belle that the latter took tolerably good care of little Fred 
 and Minnie, as the children were familiarly called. While 
 she maintained toward him her polite and friendly manner, 
 he saw that he was forgotten, and that it had not entered her 
 mind that he could ever do anything for her or be anything 
 more to her than at the present time. But every hour she 
 gained a stronger hold upon his sympathy, and occasionally, 
 when she thought herself, unobserved, he saw a troubled and 
 almost fearful look come into her eyes, as if something were 
 present to her imagination that inspired the strongest dread. 
 At such times he was mastered by impulses of self-sacrifice 
 that would have seemed very absurd if put into plain words.
 
 NEITHER BOY NOR MAN. 79 
 
 He kept his thoughts, however, to himself, and with an in 
 stinctive reticence sought to disguise even from his mother 
 the feelings that were so new, and so full of delicious pain. 
 That he was becoming quite different from the careless, self- 
 satisfied young fellow that he had been hitherto was apparent 
 to all, and after his outburst on Sunday evening his mother 
 half guessed the cause. But he misled her to some extent, 
 and Susan altogether, by saying, " I've had a falling-out 
 with Amelia Stone." 
 
 " Well, she's the last girl in the world that I'd mope about 
 if I were a man, ' ' was his sister' s emphatic reply. 
 
 ", You' re not a man ; besides I'm not moping. I'm only 
 cutting my wisdom teeth. I want to do something in the 
 world, and I'm thinking about it." 
 
 " He's a -growing, " said his mother with a smile, and on 
 this theory she usually explained all of her son's vagaries. 
 
 He still further misled his unsophisticated sister by making 
 no special effort to seek Mildred's society. After one or two 
 rather futile attempts he saw that he would alienate the sad- 
 hearted girl by obtrusive advances, and he contented himself 
 by trying to understand her, in the hope that at some future 
 time he might learn to approach her more acceptably. The 
 thought that she would soon leave the farm-house depressed 
 him greatly. She had suggested to him a new and wholly 
 different life from that which he had led hitherto, and he felt 
 within himself no power or inclination to go on with his old 
 ways. These thoughts he also brooded over in silence, and 
 let himself drift in a current which seemed irresistible. 
 
 During this period he was under the influence of neither 
 apathy nor dejection. On the contrary, his mind was surging 
 with half -formed plans, crude purposes, and ambitious 
 dreams. His horizon lifted from the farm and Forestville 
 until there seemed space for a notable career. His soul 
 kindled at the thought of winning a position that would raise
 
 So WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 him to Mildred's side. So far from fearing to burn his 
 ships, and strike out unsupported, the impulse grew strong to 
 make the attempt at any cost. He was sure that his father 
 would not listen to the project, and that he would be wholly 
 unaided, but not many days passed before the thought of such 
 obstacles ceased to influence him. " I'll take my way 
 through the world, and cut my own swath, ' ' he muttered a 
 hundred times as he swung the scythe under the July sun. 
 
 Moreover, he had a growing belief in his power to climb 
 the heights of success. His favorite books of travel and ad 
 venture that he had devoured in boyhood made almost any 
 thing seem possible, and the various biographies that the, vil 
 lage library furnished revealed grand careers in the face of 
 enormous obstacles. His mind was awaking like a young 
 giant eager for achievement. Even after the toil of long, hot 
 days he took up his old school-books in the solitude of his 
 room, and found that he could review them with the ease with 
 which he would read a story. " I've got some brains as well 
 as muscle," he would mutter, exultantly. " The time shall 
 come when Mildred Jocelyn won't mistake me for Jotham. " 
 
 Poor Mr. Atwood would have been in consternation had 
 he known what was passing in his son's mind ; and Mildred 
 even less pleased, for after all it was she who had inspired the 
 thoughts which were transforming him from a simple country 
 youth into an ambitious, venturesome man. 
 
 He knew of but one way to please her, but he made the 
 most of that, and worked quietly but assiduously whenever he 
 could without exciting his father's opposition. After the 
 day's tasks were over the time was his own. He began by 
 cutting all the weeds and grass in the door-yard and around 
 the house. Palings that had disappeared from the fence were 
 replaced, and all were whitewashed. 
 
 Mrs. Atwood and Susan were greatly pleased at the changes, 
 but thought it politic not to say much about them ; one
 
 NEITHER BOY NOR MAN. 8l 
 
 evening, however, his father began to banter him, remarking 
 that Roger must be intending to " bring home a wife some 
 fine morning." The young fellow reddened resentfully, and 
 brusquely retorted that they " had lived in their old slovenly 
 way long enough. People might well think they were going 
 to the bad." 
 
 This practical view somewhat reconciled his father to the 
 new ideas, and suggested that Roger was not so daft as he 
 feared. A little time after he was led to believe his son to be 
 shrewder than himself. Needing some money, he took a note 
 to the bank with much misgiving, but was agreeably surprised 
 when one of the officers said affably, ' ' I think we can accom 
 modate you, Mr. Atwood. I was by your place the other 
 day, and it is so improved that I scarcely knew it Thrift and 
 credit go together. ' ' 
 
 But Mildred doubted whether thrift and policy were the 
 only motives which had led to Roger' s unwonted action, and 
 believed rather that he had awakened to a perception of the 
 value and attractiveness of those things which hitherto he had 
 not appreciated. This, in a sense, was already true, but had 
 she known to what extent she was in his thoughts she would 
 not have smiled so complacently when, on the Saturday 
 morning after the completion of his other labors, she noted 
 that the weed-choked flower-borders along the walk had been 
 cleaned and neatly rounded up, and the walk itself put in 
 prefect order. " The flower-beds remind me of himself," 
 she thought, as from time to time she glanced at them 
 through her open window. ' ' They contain a good deal of 
 vacant space, and suggest what might be there rather than 
 what is. Would to heaven, though, that Mr. Arnold had 
 more of his muscle and decision. If Vinton were only 
 different, how different all the future might be ? But I fear, 
 I fear. We have not enough money to last all summer if we 
 remain here, and father writes so discouragingly. Thank
 
 82 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 God, I'm no longer idle, whether anything comes of my 
 work or not," and the delicate piece of fancy work grew 
 rapidly in her deft hands. 
 
 Toward evening she started out for a walk, but uttered an 
 exclamation of surprise as she saw the flower-borders were 
 bright with verbenas, heliotrope, geraniums, and other bed 
 ding plants. Roger's buggy stood near, containing two large 
 empty boxes, and he was just raking the beds smooth once 
 more in order to finish his task. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Atwood !" she cried, " it has long seemed to 
 me that a good fairy was at work around the house, but this 
 is a master-stroke." 
 
 ' ' If you are pleased I am well repaid, ' ' he replied, the 
 color deepening on his sunburnt cheeks. 
 
 " If I am pleased ?" she repeated in surprise, and with a 
 faint answering color. " Why, all will be pleased, especially 
 your mother and Susan. ' ' 
 
 " No doubt, but I thought these would look more like 
 what you have been accustomed to." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Atwood, I hope you have not put yourself 
 to all this trouble on my account." 
 
 ' ' I have not put myself to any trouble. But you are in 
 trouble, Miss Jocelyn, and perhaps these flowers may enliven 
 you a little." 
 
 ' ' I did not expect such kindness, such thoughtf ulness. 1 
 do not see that I am entitled to so much consideration," she 
 said hesitatingly, at the same time fixing on him a penetrat 
 ing glance. 
 
 Although he was much embarrassed, his clear black eyes 
 met hers without wavering, and he asked, after a moment 
 " Could you not accept it if it were given freely ?" 
 
 ' ' I scarcely understand you, ' ' she replied in some perplexity. 
 
 " Nor do I understand you, Miss Jocelyn. I wish I did, 
 for then I might do more for you. ' '
 
 NEITHER BOY NOR MAN. 83 
 
 " No, Mr. Atwood," she answered gravely, " you do not 
 understand me. Experience has made me immeasurably 
 older than you are." 
 
 " Very possibly," he admitted, with a short, embarrassed 
 laugh. ' ' My former self-assurance and complacency are all 
 gone." 
 
 " Self-reliance and self-restraint are better than self-assur 
 ance," she remarked with a smile. 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn," he began, with something like impetu 
 osity, " I would give all the world if I could become your 
 friend. You could do so much for me. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Mr. Atwood, ' ' said Mildred, with a laugh that was mixed 
 with annoyance, " you are imposed upon by your fancy, and 
 are imagining absurd things, I fear. But you are good- 
 hearted, and I shall be a little frank with you. We are in 
 trouble. Business reverses have overtaken my father, and we 
 are poor, and may be much poorer. I may be a working- 
 woman the rest of my days ; so, for Heaven's sake, do not 
 make a heroine out of me. That would be too cruel a satire 
 on my prosaic lot. ' ' 
 
 ' ' You do not understand me at all, and perhaps I scarcely 
 understand myself. If you think my head is filled with sen 
 timental nonsense, time will prove you mistaken. I have a 
 will of my own, I can assure you, and a way of seeing what 
 is to be seen. I have seen a great deal since I've known 
 you. A new and larger world has been revealed to me, and 
 I mean to do something in it worthy of a man. I can nevei 
 go on with my old life, and I will not," he continued, almost 
 passionately. " I was an animal. I was a conceited fool. 
 I'm very crude and unformed now, and may seem to you 
 very ridiculous ; but crudity is not absurdity, undeveloped 
 strength is not weakness. An awakening mind may be very 
 awkward, but give me time and you will not be ashamed of 
 my friendship."
 
 84 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 He had ceased leaning against a tree that grew near the 
 roadway, and at some distance from the house. In his strong 
 feeling he forgot his embarrassment, and assumed an attitude 
 so full of unconscious power that he inspired a dawning of 
 respect ; for, while he seemed a little beside himself, there 
 was a method in his madness which suggested that she, as 
 well as the young man, might eventually discover that he was 
 not of common clay and predestined to be commonplace. 
 But she said, in all sincerity, " Mr. Atwood, I'm sure I 
 wish you twice the success you crave in life, and I've no reason 
 to think you overrate your power to achieve it ; but you 
 greatly overrate me. It would be no condescension on my 
 part to give you my friendship ; and no doubt if you attain 
 much of the success you covet you will be ready enough to 
 forget my existence. What induces you to think that a sim 
 ple girl like me can help you ? It seems to me that you are 
 vague and visionary, which perhaps is natural, since you say 
 you are just awaking," she concluded, with a little smiling 
 sarcasm. 
 
 " You are unjust both to yourself and to me," he replied 
 firmly, " and I think I can prove it. If I shall ever have any 
 power in the world it will be in seeing clearly what is before 
 me. I have seldom been away from this country town, and 
 yet as soon as I saw you with a mind free from prejudice I 
 recognized your superiority. I brought the belle of Forest- 
 ville and placed her by your side, and I could think of noth 
 ing but brazen instruments until I left her loudness at her 
 father's door. I would not go near her again if there were 
 not another woman in the world. I saw at a glance that she 
 was earthenware beside you. ' ' 
 
 Mildred now could not forbear laughing openly. " If you 
 lose your illusions so rapidly," she said, " my turn will come 
 soon, and I shall be china beside some fine specimen of 
 majolica."
 
 NEITHER BO Y NOR MAN. 85 
 
 ' ' You may laugh at me, but you will one day find I am 
 sincere, and not altogether a fool." 
 
 ' ' Oh, F m ready to admit that, even now. But you are alto 
 gether mistaken in thinking I can help you. Indeed I scarcely 
 see how I can help myself. It is a very poor proof of your keen 
 discernment to associate me with your kindling ambition." 
 
 ' ' Then why had you the power to kindle it ? Why do I 
 think my best thoughts in your presence ? Why do I speak 
 to you now as I never dreamed I could speak ? You are 
 giving purpose and direction to my life, whether you wish it 
 or not, whether you care or not. You may always be in 
 different to the fact, still it was your hand that wakened me. 
 I admit I'm rather dazed as yet. You may think I'm talk 
 ing to you with the frankness perhaps the rashness of a 
 boy, since you are ' immeasurably older/ but the time is not 
 very distant when I shall take my course with the strength 
 and resolution of a man." 
 
 . "I should be sorry to be the very innocent cause of lead 
 ing you into thorny paths. I truly think you will find more 
 happiness here in your quiet country life." 
 
 His only answer was an impatient gesture. 
 
 ' ' Perhaps, ' ' she resumed, ' ' if you knew more of the world 
 you would fear it more. I' m sure I fear it, and with good 
 reason. ' ' 
 
 " I do not fear the world at all," he replied. " I would 
 fear to lose your esteem and respect far more, and, distant as 
 you are from me, I shall yet win them both. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Mr. Atwood, I suppose I have as much vanity as most 
 girls, but you make me blush. You are indeed dazed, for 
 you appear to take me for a melodramatic heroine." 
 
 " Pardon me, I do not. I' ve been to the theatre occasion 
 ally, but you are not at all theatrical. You are not like the 
 heroines of the novels I've read, and I suppose I've read too 
 many of them."
 
 86 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 1 ' I fear you have, ' ' she remarked dryly. ' ' Pray, then, 
 what am I like ?" 
 
 ' ' And I may seem to you a hero of the dime style ; but 
 wait, don' t decide yet. What are you like ? You are gentle, 
 like your mother. You are exceedingly fond of all that's 
 pretty and refined, so much so that you tried to introduce a 
 little grace into our meagre, angular farm-house life " 
 
 " Thanks for your aid," interrupted Mildred, laughing. 
 " I must admit that you have good eyes." 
 
 : ' You shrink," he resumed, " from all that's ugly, vulgar, 
 or coarse in life. You are an unhappy exile in our plain 
 home." 
 
 ' ' All which goes to prove what an ordinary and unheroic 
 nature I have. You will soar far beyond me, Mr. Atwood, 
 for you have portrayed a very weak character one that is in 
 love with the niceties of life, with mere prettiness." 
 
 " You are still laughing at me, but I'm in earnest ; and 
 if you mean what you say, you understand yourself less than, 
 you do me. Why will you not go to the hotel occasionally ? 
 Because with all your gentleness you are too proud to run the 
 slightest risk of patronage and pity from those who knew you 
 in your more fortunate days. Why do you remain in your 
 little hot room so much of the time ? I don't know ; but if 
 you will permit a guess, you are working. Every day you 
 grow less content to sit still in helpless weakness. You are 
 far braver than I, for I do not fear the world in the least ; 
 but, no matter how much you feared it, you would do your 
 best to the last, and never yield to anything in it that was low, 
 base, or mean. Oh, you are very gentle, very delicate, and 
 you will be misunderstood ; but you have the strongest 
 strength there is a kind of strength that will carry you 
 through everything, though it cost you dear. ' ' 
 
 " And what may that be ?" she asked, looking at him now 
 in genuine wonder.
 
 NEITHER BO Y NOR MAN. 87 
 
 " I can't explain exactly what I mean. It is something 
 1 ve seen in mother, plain and simple as she is. It's a kind 
 of enduring steadfastness; it's a patient faithfulness. I 
 should know just where to find mother, and just what to 
 expect from her, under all possible circumstances. I should 
 never expect to see you very different from what you are, no 
 matter what happened. You often have the same look or 
 expression that she has ; and it means to me that you would 
 do the best you could, although discouraged and almost hope 
 less. Very few soldiers will fight when they know the battle 
 is going against them. You would, as long as you could 
 move a finger. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Mr. Atwood, what has put all this into your head ? This 
 seems very strange language from you. ' ' 
 
 " It is not so strange as it seems. It comes from the gift 
 on which I base my hope of success in life. I see clearly 
 and vividly what is before me, and draw my conclusions. If 
 I see the antlers of a stag above some bushes, it is not neces 
 sary to see the whole animal to know he is there, and what 
 kind of a creature he is. I' m not a scholar, Miss Jocelyn, 
 but you must not think I do not know anything because I 
 work in the corn or the hayfield all day. We have long 
 winters up here, and I've studied some and read a great deal 
 more. There are but few books in the village library that 1 
 have not read more or less thoroughly, and some of them 
 many times. Because I was a careless, conceited fellow a few 
 weeks since, it does not follow that I'm an ignoramus." 
 
 Mildred was decidedly puzzled. She could not account 
 for the change in him ; and she did not like to think of 
 that to which his words and feelings pointed. He asked for 
 friendship, but she strongly doubted whether such a placid 
 regard would long satisfy him. Her chief impulse was to 
 escape, for the bare thought of words of love from him or any 
 one except Vinton Arnold was intensely repugnant. As she
 
 88 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 glanced around, seeking in what direction she might take 
 her flight, she saw a gentleman coming rapidly toward the 
 house. After a second's hesitation she rushed toward him, 
 crying, " Papa, papa, you are welcome 1"
 
 A COUNCIL. 89 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A COUNCIL. 
 
 ROGER saw Miss Jocelyn rush into the arms of a tall, 
 florid gentleman, whose dark eyes grew moist at the 
 almost passionate warmth of his daughter's greeting. To 
 Mildred her father' s unexpected coming was thrice welcome, 
 for in addition to her peculiarly strong affection for him, his 
 presence ended an interview not at all agreeable, and promised 
 relief from further unwelcome attentions on the part of Roger. 
 Almost in the moment of meeting, she resolved to persuade 
 him that his family would be happier with him in the city. 
 This had been her feeling from the first, but now she was 
 wholly bent on leaving the farm-house ; for with her larger 
 experience and womanly intuition she read in Roger's frank 
 and still half-boyish face the foreshadowing of an unwelcome 
 regard which she understood better than he did. 
 
 While his manner for a few weeks past, and especially his 
 words during their recent interview, made it clear that he was 
 not the rough, awkward rustic she had first imagined him to 
 be, he still seemed very crude and angular. In spite of her 
 love for Vinton Arnold, which had not abated in the least, 
 he had ceased to be her ideal man. Nevertheless, his refined 
 elegance, his quiet self-restraint, his knowledge of the niceties 
 and proprieties of the world to which she 'felt she belonged 
 by right, did combine to produce an ideal in her mind of 
 which she was but half conscious, and beside which Roger 
 appeared in a repulsive light. She shrank with instinctive
 
 90 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 distaste from his very strength and vehemence, and feared 
 that she would never be safe from interviews like the one just 
 described, and from awkward, half - concealed gallantries. 
 Even the flowers he had set out became odious, for they rep 
 resented a sentiment the very thought of which inspired 
 aversion. 
 
 A coquette can soon destroy the strong instinct of sacred- 
 ness and exclusiveness with which an unperverted girl guards 
 her heart from all save the one who seems to have the divine 
 right and unexplained power to pass all barriers. Even while 
 fancy free, unwelcome advances are resented almost as wrongs 
 and intrusions by the natural woman ; but after a real, or even 
 an ideal image has taken possession of the heart and imagi 
 nation, repugnance is often the sole reward of other unfortu 
 nate suitors, and this dislike usually will be felt and mani 
 fested in a proportion corresponding with the obtrusiveness of 
 the attentions, their sincerity, and the want of tact with which 
 they are offered. 
 
 To that degree, therefore, that Roger was in earnest, Mil 
 dred shrank from him, and she feared that he would not 
 indeed, from his antecedents could not know how to hide 
 his emotions. His words had so startled her that, in her sur 
 prise and annoyance, she imagined him in a condition of 
 semi-ambitious and semi-amative ebullition, and she dreaded 
 to think what strange irruptions might ensue. It would have 
 been the impulse of many to make the immature youth a 
 source of transient amusement, but with a sensitive delicacy 
 she shrank from him altogether, and wished to get away as 
 soon as possible. Pressing upon her was the sad, practical 
 question of a thwarted and impoverished life impoverished 
 to her in the dreariest sense and it was intolerable that one 
 who seemed so remote from her sphere should come and ask 
 that, from her bruised and empty heart, she should give all 
 sorts of melodramatic sentiment in response to his crude,
 
 A COUNCIL. 91 
 
 ambitious impulses, which were yet as blind as the mythical 
 god himself. 
 
 Had she seen that Roger meant friendship only when he 
 asked for friendship, she would not have been so prejudiced 
 against him ; but the fact that this " great boy" was half con 
 sciously extending his hand for a gift which now she could 
 not bestow on the best and greatest, since it was gone from 
 her beyond recall, appeared grotesque, and such a disagreeable 
 outcome of her changed fortunes that she was almost tempted 
 to hate him. There are some questions on which women 
 scarcely reason they only feel intensely. 
 
 Mildred, therefore, was heartily glad that Rogei did not 
 wait to be introduced to her father, and that he kept himself 
 aloof from the reunited family during the evening. She also 
 was pleased that they were not joined by the Atwoods at the 
 supper-table. That this considerate delicacy was due to the 
 " young barbarian's" suggestion she did not dream, but gave 
 good-hearted but not very sensitive Mrs. Atwood all the credit. 
 As for poor Roger, his quick insight, his power to guess 
 something of people's thoughts and feelings from the ex 
 pression of their faces, brought but little present comfort or 
 promise for the future. 
 
 " I made a bad impression at the start," he muttered, 
 ' ' and it will be long before she loses it, if she ever does. 
 She shrinks from me as from something coarse and rough. 
 She feels that I don' t belong to her world at all. In fact, 
 her father' s fine bearing, his erect, elegant carriage make me 
 feel as if I were but a country lout in very truth. ' ' 
 
 The reception given to Mr. Jocelyn satisfied Mrs. Atwood 
 thoroughly that his prolonged absence did not result from 
 any alienation from his family. They overwhelmed him with 
 caresses, and either Fred or Minnie could scarcely be kept 
 out of his arms a moment 
 
 " Fanny," he said to his wife, " I almost made a vow that I
 
 9 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 would not come here until I had secured a position that 
 would give you all the comforts of life, if not at once its lux 
 uries ; but such positions are occupied, and when one becomes 
 vacant they are filled by relatives of the firm, or by those who 
 have stronger claims than I can present. Still my friends are 
 working for me, and I have the prospect of employment 
 where the compensation will be small at first, but if I can 
 draw a considerable Southern trade it will be increased 
 rapidly. ' ' 
 
 And yet he sighed while revealing this hopeful outlook, 
 and Mildred noticed that he sighed more than once during the 
 evening, in spite of the torrent of affectionate welcome which 
 almost swept him away. 
 
 After Belle and the younger children were sleeping, the 
 husband and wife with Mildred talked late over their pros 
 pects. Mr. Jocelyn suggested that they should remain in the 
 country, and even that they should rent a small cottage in 
 Forestville or elsewhere, but his gentle wife soon proved that 
 on some occasions she could be decided. 
 
 " No, Martin," she said, with the quiet emphasis which 
 reveals a purpose not to be combated, ' ' one thing is settled 
 there must be no more separation. I have suffered too 
 much during these last few weeks ever to listen again to such 
 an arrangement. Now that you are with us once more, I 
 learn that the ache in my heart was caused not so much by 
 losses and the prospect of poverty as by loneliness and the 
 feeling that you were left to struggle by yourself. It's my 
 place to be with you, and I am willing to live anywhere and 
 in any way. I can see that I might have aided you in pro 
 viding against this evil time, but it seems now that I thought 
 only of what we wanted for each day as it came, and the 
 trouble was that we all got just what we wanted. Here is 
 the result. Oh, I've thought it over through long sleepless 
 nights till my heart ached with a pain that I hope none of
 
 A COUNCIL. 93 
 
 you will ever know. But to sit idly here and wait while 
 you are trying to retrieve my folly is a greater punishment 
 than I can endure. Give me something to do which will be 
 of help to you, and I will do it gladly, even though it be in 
 two attic rooms." 
 
 "Mamma's right," added Mildred earnestly. "Papa, 
 you must find a place for us in New York a place within 
 our means. Let us begin life right this time, and I believe 
 God will bless and prosper us. It won' t be many days before 
 Belle and I will find something to do." 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn sighed more deeply than ever, and, indeed, 
 appeared so overcome for a few moments that he could not 
 speak. At last he faltered, " I have all of a Southern man's 
 pride, and it's more bitter than death to me that my wife and 
 daughters must work for their bread." 
 
 " Papa," exclaimed Mildred, " would it not be infinitely 
 more bitter to us all to eat the bread of charity ? I shall pre 
 tend to no unnatural heroism, nor say I like toil and poverty. 
 On the contrary, I think I shrink from such things more 
 than most girls do. But I don' t propose to sit down and wring 
 my hands. I can put them to a better use. We must just 
 put away all talk of pride and sentiment, and remember only 
 our poverty and self-respect. As Christian and sensible 
 people we are bound to accept of our life and make the best 
 of it. You and mother both know how much this change has 
 cost me," she concluded, with a few half-stifled sobs, " and 
 if I am willing to enter on a cheerful, patient effort to make 
 the best of life as it is, I think all the rest might, too. If we 
 give way to despondency we are lost. Let us be together 
 again, and pull together as one. ' ' 
 
 ' ' The idea of Nan and the children coming back to the 
 city in August !" said Mr. Jocelyn dejectedly. " You don't 
 either of you realize what you are talking about. We should 
 have to go into a tenement-house."
 
 94 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Martin, I do realize it," replied his wife earnestly. 
 " The country is doing me no good indeed I'm failing in 
 health. Nothing does us good when we are unhappy and 
 anxious. Find me two rooms in a tenement-house if we 
 cannot afford more, and let us be together as soon as pos 
 sible." 
 
 ' : Well," said Mr. Jocelyn, after a long breath, " with 
 such a wife and such children to work for a man ought to be 
 able to do great things ; but it' s much the same as it was in 
 the army if one lost his place in the ranks he was hustled 
 about in everybody's way, and if weak and disabled he was 
 left to his fate. The world goes right on and over you if you 
 don't stand aside. I know you've suffered, Nan, and you 
 know that if I had my wish you would never have a care or a 
 pain ; but God knows I've suffered too. After you all were 
 gone and my duties to my former partners ceased, I began to 
 learn from experience how difficult it is in these cursed times 
 to get a foothold, and I became almost sleepless from anxiety. 
 Then set in that villainous neuralgia, which always strikes a 
 man when he's down, and for a week or more it seemed that 
 I should almost lose my reason." 
 
 " Oh, Martin, Martin !" his wife exclaimed reproachfully, 
 " and you did not let us know !" 
 
 ' ' Why should I ? It would only have added to your bur 
 den, and would not have helped me. I was glad you knew 
 nothing about it." 
 
 ' ' This is another proof that we must be together, ' ' said his 
 wife, her eyes filling with tears. " How did you come to get 
 better ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Oh, the doctor gave me something that made me sleep, 
 and I seldom have neuralgia now." 
 
 ' ' Come, papa, ' ' cried Mildred, as she put her arms around 
 his neck and leaned her face against his, ' ' there are thousands 
 worse off than we are, and thousands more have retrieved far
 
 A COUNCIL. 95 
 
 worse disasters. Now take courage ; we' 11 all stand by you, 
 and we'll all help you. We will one day have a prettier home 
 than ever, and it will be all our own, so that no one can drive 
 us from it ;" and with hope springing up in her heart she 
 tried to inspire hope and courage in theirs. 
 
 " Oh, Millie," he said, taking her on his lap, " when you 
 coax and pet one you are irresistible. We will begin again, 
 and win back all and more than we have lost." 
 
 Then, partly to amuse her father and mother, but more 
 for the purpose of hastening their departure, Mildred told 
 them of Roger's peculiar mood, and her conscience smote 
 her a little as she caricatured rather than characterized the 
 youth. Mrs. Jocelyn, in her kindliness, took his part, and 
 said, " Millie, you are satirical and unjust. I'm sure he's 
 a well-meaning young man. ' ' 
 
 "The dear little mother!" cried Mildred, laughing; 
 
 " when she can't think of anything else good to say of a 
 
 person, she assures us that he is ' well-meaning. ' Life may 
 
 "bring me many misfortunes, but I shall nes'er marry what 
 
 mamma calls ' a well-meaning man.' ' 
 
 " But, Millie, I'm sure he's been very good and kind to 
 us all, and he's kind to his mother and sister, and he seems 
 steady ' ' 
 
 "Well, mamma, admitting it all, what follows?" asked 
 Mildred. 
 
 " It follows that we had better go away," said Mrs. Joce 
 lyn, with her low, sweet laugh, that had been rarely heard of 
 late ; " but I don't like you to be unjust to the young fellow. 
 After all, he's not so very much to blame, Millie," sha 
 added, with a little nod. " If I were he I fear I might be in 
 the same fix." 
 
 " Oh, papa, now we must go ; for if mamma's sympathies 
 are once aroused in behalf of this ' steady, well-meaning 
 young man ' there ! I will talk no more nonsense to-night,
 
 9<5 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 although I often find nonsense a sort of life-preserver that 
 keeps me from sinking. I admit, mamma, that I have been 
 unjust to Mr. Atvvood. He's far more clever than I ever 
 imagined him to be, but he's so different" she finished the 
 sentence with a little repellent gesture that her mother well 
 understood. 
 
 They were all comforted, and far more hopeful from their 
 frank interchange of thought and feeling, and both father 
 and mother breathed a fervent " God bless you, Millie," as 
 they separated, long past midnight. 
 
 ' ' God will bless us, ' ' said the young girl, " if we will just 
 simply try to do what is right and best every day. The bless 
 ing will come on doing, not waiting. ' ' 
 
 She had not been in her room very long before hearing the 
 crunching of gravel under the wheels of Roger's buggy. 
 With a smile she thought, ' ' He must have found a more 
 sympathizing ear and heart than mine to have remained out 
 so late."
 
 A SHADOW. 97 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A SHADOW. 
 
 " ]\ T RS. ATWOOD," said Mildred the next morning, 
 
 1 V-L ' ' I want to thank you for your kindness in giving 
 us our supper alone with papa the first evening of his arrival ; 
 but you need not put yourself to any extra trouble to-day." 
 
 " Roger is the one to thank," replied Mrs. Atwood. 
 " He's grown so different, so considerate like, that I scarcely 
 know him any more than I do the old place he's so fixed up. 
 He says he's going to paint the house after the summer 
 work slacks off. I don't see what's come over him, but I 
 like the change very much.' 
 
 Mildred flushed slightly, but said, with some constraint, 
 " Please thank him then from papa and mamma, but do not 
 let us make you further trouble. We shall all return to the 
 city soon, and then you will have easier times every way." 
 
 "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Jocelyn, for we shall miss 
 you all very much. You've done us good in more ways 
 than one." 
 
 Roger did not appear at breakfast. ' ' A young horse 
 strayed from the pasture, and Roger is out looking for him, ' ' 
 his mother explained when Mrs. Jocelyn asked after him. 
 
 Although not a member of any church, Mr. Jocelyn had 
 great respect for his wife and daughter's faith, and accompa 
 nied them to service that morning very readily. Roger ap 
 peared in time to take Belle, as usual, but she found him so 
 taciturn and preoccupied that she whispered to Mildred, 
 " You've spoiled him for me. He sits staring like an owl in
 
 98 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the sunlight, and seeing just about as much. You ought to 
 be ashamed of yourself to make him so glum. I intend to 
 have a dozen beaux, and to keep them all jolly." 
 
 Mildred was obliged to admit to herself that the young 
 fellow was very undemonstrative at dinner, and that he did 
 not exhibit the rusticity that she half hoped to see. She 
 gained the impression that he was observing her father very 
 closely, and that no remark of his escaped him. ' ' He has 
 the eyes of a lynx, ' ' she thought, with a frown. Still, apart 
 from a certain annoyance at his deep interest in her and all 
 relating to her, she was rather pleased at the impression which 
 such a man as her father must make on one so unsophisticat 
 ed. Mr. Jocelyn was a finished man of the world, and his 
 large experience left its impress on all that he said and did. 
 Although a little courtly in manner, he was so kindly and 
 frank in nature that his superiority was not at all oppressive, 
 and with true Southern bonhomie he made the farmer's family 
 quite at ease, leading them to speak freely of their rural 
 affairs. Susan soon lost all sense of restraint and began to 
 banter her brother. 
 
 1 ' You must have had a very affecting time in making up 
 with Amelia Stone to have stayed out so late, ' ' she remarked 
 sotto wee. 
 
 " I've not seen Amelia Stone since the evening she was 
 here," he answered dryly. 
 
 " Indeed I what other charmer -then tied you to her apron* 
 strings so tightly ? You are very fickle. ' ' 
 
 "Now you've hit it," he answered, with a slight flush. 
 " I was so undecided that I drove by every door, and was 
 not tied at all. ' ' 
 
 Belle " made eyes" at Mildred, as much as to say, " It's 
 you who are distracting him." 
 
 ' ' Next time, ' ' Sue continued, ' ' I think it would be well 
 to make up your mind before Sunday morning.
 
 A SHADOW. 99 
 
 " My mind is made up," replied Roger Belle looked at 
 Mildred with an expression of horror, to her intense annoy 
 ance ' ' I shall trouble no one, ' ' he added, quietly. 
 
 Belle now gave such a great sigh of relief that he turned 
 upon her too swift a glance to leave time for disguise. He 
 smiled a little bitterly, and then began talking in an off-hand 
 way to Mr. Jocelyn about the hotel a few miles distant, say 
 ing that it had filled up very rapidly of late. As they rose 
 Irom the table he remarked, hesitatingly, " My horse and 
 wagon are at your service this afternoon or evening if you 
 would like to take a drive." 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn was about to accept, but Mildred trod signifi 
 cantly on his foot Therefore he thanked Roger cordially, 
 and said he would spend a quiet day with his family. 
 
 " I don't wish to be under the slightest obligations to 
 him," explained Mildred when they were alone ; " and 
 Belle," she warned, " you must stop your nonsense at once. 
 I won't endure another trace of it." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! I didn't know you were so touchy about 
 him," cried the girl. " Is it for his sake or your own that 
 you are so careful ? You're stupid not to let him amuse you, 
 since you've spoiled him for me." 
 
 Her sister made no reply, but gave the giddy child a 
 glance that quieted her at once. When Mildred was aroused 
 her power over others was difficult to explain, for, gentle as 
 she was, her will at times seemed irresistible. 
 
 Roger did not need to be told in so many words that his 
 overtures of " friendship" had been practically declined. 
 Her tones, her polite, but distant manner revealed the truth 
 clearly. He was sorely wounded, but so far from being 
 disheartened, his purpose to win her recognition was only 
 intensified. 
 
 ' ' I can at least compel her respect and prove myself her 
 equal, ' ' he thought, and instead of lounging or sleeping away
 
 loo WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 the afternoon, as had been his custom, he took a book and 
 read steadily for several hours. At last he left his room to 
 aid his father in the evening labors of the farm-yard, and in 
 doing so would have to pass near Mr. Jocelyn, who, with his 
 family, was seated under a wide-spreading tree. The gentle 
 man evidently was in a very genial mood ; he was caressing 
 his children, flattering his wife and Mildred, and rallying Belle 
 after her own frolicsome humor. Roger thought, as he 
 looked at them a few moments through the kitchen window, 
 that he had never seen a happier family, and with a sigh wished 
 that it was his privilege to join them without being thought 
 an intruder. Mildred's reserve, however, formed an impass 
 able barrier, and he was hastening by with downcast eyes, 
 when, to his surprise and the young girl's evident astonish 
 ment, Mr. Jocelyn arose and said, ' ' Ah, Mr. Atwood, we' re 
 glad to see you. Won't you join our little party? I want 
 to thank you again for offering me your horse and carriage, 
 but I assure you that a quiet hour like this with one's family 
 after long separation is happiness enough. Still, as a South 
 ern man, I appreciate courtesy, and am always ready to 
 respond to it in like spirit. Moreover, it gives me peculiar 
 pleasure to see a Northern man developing traits which, if 
 they were general, would make the two great sections of our 
 land one in truth as well as in name. 
 
 Roger gave Mildred a quick, questioning glance, and saw 
 that she was regarding her father with much perplexity. 
 
 "Mr. Jocelyn," he said quietly, "the little courtesy of 
 which you speak has cost me nothing, and if it had it would 
 not be worth the words you bestow upon it." 
 
 " I do not think of the act itself so much as the spirit, the 
 disposition it indicates," resumed Mr. Jocelyn in a manner 
 that was courtly and pronounced, but otherwise natural and 
 quiet enough. " I do not judge superficially, but look past 
 apparent trifles to the character they suggest. Moreover, my
 
 A SHADOW. iox 
 
 wife informs me that you have been very polite to her, and 
 very kind to Belle and the children, whom you have often 
 taken out to drive without any compensation whatever. 
 Since you will not make a business matter of such things, I 
 wish to repay you in the coin which gentlemen can always 
 receive that of friendly acknowledgments. 
 
 ' ' Then please consider me amply repaid, ' ' and with a 
 smile and a bow he was about to retire. 
 
 " Do not hasten away, sir," Mr. Jocelyn began again. 
 " On this day of rest your duties cannot be pressing. I want 
 to assure you further of the pleasure I have in finding a 
 young man who, so far from being rendered callous and 
 material by hard and rather homely work, is alive to all refin 
 ing influences. The changes in this place for the better since 
 I was here, and those pretty flowers yonder, all prove that you 
 have an eye for the beautiful as well as the practical. My 
 daughter Mildred also informs me that you are cherishing 
 hopes and ambitions that will eventually enlarge your sphere 
 of life and take you out into the great world. 
 
 Hitherto Roger's eyes had been fixed keenly and unwaver 
 ingly on Mr. Jocelyn' s urbane countenance, as if he would 
 detect the cause of such unlooked-for words, but at the 
 mention of Mildred's name his brow and even neck was 
 suffused. " She must have spoken of me kindly," he 
 thought, " or her father would not be so friendly." But 
 when a swift glance around revealed that Mrs. Jocelyn was 
 looking at her husband in perplexity, that Mildred was not 
 even trying to conceal her vexation and amazement, and that 
 Belle had stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth to prevent 
 laughter, a spark of anger glittered in his eyes. His first 
 thought was that Mr. Jocelyn was indulging in unexpected 
 irony at his expense, and the ready youth whose social habits 
 had inured him to much chaffing was able to reply, although 
 a little stiffly and awkwardly, " I suppose most young men
 
 102 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 have ambitious hopes of doing something in the world, and 
 yet that does not prevent mine from seeming absurd. At any 
 rate, it's clear that I had better reveal them hereafter by deeds 
 rather than words," and with a very slight bow he strode 
 away, but not so quickly that he failed to hear Mildred's 
 voice in the exclamation, "Oh, papa! how could you?" 
 and then followed a paroxysm of laughter from Belle. 
 
 Roger was deeply incensed, for he believed that Mr. Joce- 
 lyn and Belle were deliberately ridiculing him. That Mil 
 dred had repeated his conversation was evident, but her man 
 ner showed that she did not expect his words to be used 
 against him so openly, and that she had no part in the cruel 
 sport. The worst he could charge against her was exclusive 
 pride ; and he did Mrs. Jocelyn the justice to see that she 
 was pained by the whole affair. His face grew rigid as he 
 finished his work and he muttered, ' ' They shall see that my 
 pride is equal to theirs ; I won't go out of my way a hair's 
 breadth for them, ' ' and he walked in to supper as if he were 
 at home and had an absolute right to be there. He had 
 been at the table but a few moments, however, before the 
 aspect of the Jocelyn family began to puzzle him exceedingly. 
 Belle appeared as if she had been crying ; Mrs. Jocelyn 
 looked perplexed and worried, and in Mildred's eyes there 
 were anxiety and trouble. Mr. Jocelyn had not lost his 
 serenity in the least, but his aspect now was grave, and his 
 manner more courtly than ever. He did not seem inclined 
 to say very much, however, and had an abstracted, dreamy 
 look as if his thoughts were far away. When he did speak, 
 Roger thought that Mildred looked apprehensive, as if fearing 
 that he might again say something embarrassing, but his 
 words were quiet and measured, betraying no excitement. 
 The expression of his face, however, seemed unnatural to 
 Roger's close yet furtive scrutiny. An hour before his eyes 
 had been bright and dilated, and his countenance full of
 
 A SHADOW. 103 
 
 animation ; now all the light and cheerfulness were fading, 
 and the man seemed to grow older and graver by moments. 
 Was the dusky pallor stealing across his features caused by 
 the shadows of evening ? Roger thought not, but a resentful 
 glance from Mildred warned him to curb his curiosity. 
 
 He was curious, but not in a vulgar or prying way, and 
 his anger was all gone. He was sure that something was 
 amiss with Mr. Jocelyn, and that his family also was dis 
 turbed and anxious. There had been none of the incohe- 
 rency and excitement of a man who had drank too much, but 
 only a slight exaggeration of the genial traits manifested at the 
 dinner-table followed by a quietude and abstraction that were 
 not natural. Mental aberrations, even though slight and 
 temporary, are instinctively felt by those who are sound 
 and normal in mind. Still Roger would have charged Mr. 
 Jocelyn' s words and manner to the peculiarities of a stranger, 
 had not his family been perplexed and troubled also. 
 " There's something wrong about him," he said to himself 
 as he rose from the table ; "he lacks balance, or he's not 
 well. I half believe that the time will come when that young 
 girl will be the stay and support of the whole family. You 
 cannot prevent my friendliness, Miss Jocelyn, any more than 
 you can stop the sun from shining, and some day it will melt 
 all your reserve and coldness. ' ' He took his volume of his 
 tory out on the sward near the porch, resolving to see the 
 end of the domestic drama. His mother had told him dur 
 ing the day that their " boarders" would soon depart. He 
 had made no response whatever, but his sinking spirits re 
 vealed to him that in some way his life had become involved 
 with that of the girl now so distant and repellent. 
 
 He did not turn many leaves, but he sat with the book in 
 his lap until long after nightfall. The domestic drama ap 
 parently had a very prosaic ending. Mr. Jocelyn and his 
 family returned for a time to their seats under the tree, but
 
 i4 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 all except the little children were apparently under some 
 constraint. The latter soon grew sleepy, and Mrs. Jocelyn 
 took them in to bed. Belle was not long in following them, 
 darting an ireful glance at Roger in passing, to which he re 
 sponded by a rather mocking smile. ' ' We were having a 
 lovely time till you came, you old marplot," she muttered 
 under her breath. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn grew more and more quiet until his head sank 
 on his breast, and it was with difficulty that Mildred aroused 
 him sufficiently to urge his retiring. At last he took his 
 daughter's arm and entered the house as if in a dream. The 
 young girl's face was downcast and averted. As they passed 
 between the youth and the still glowing west they cast a faint 
 shadow upon him. Though by no means imaginative, he 
 noted the shadow and thought about it. It seemed that it 
 still rested on him after they were gone, and that it might 
 never pass away. His was not a dreamy, fanciful nature, 
 that could create a score of improbable contingencies, but his 
 shrewd, strong sense was quick to recognize traces of weak 
 ness and untrustworthiness in those he met, and the im 
 pression grew upon him that Mr. Jocelyn was not a well- 
 balanced man. " If he fails her, I will not," he murmured. 
 Then with a short laugh he continued, " How is it that I 
 am ready to admit such a far-reaching claim from one who 
 repels and dislikes me ? I don't know, and I don't care. 
 She has waked me up ; she has the power of calling into 
 action every faculty I have. Already, I scarcely know my 
 self. I never lived before, and I feel that I can become a 
 man perhaps a great man if I follow this impulse, and I 
 shall follow it." 
 
 Soon all were sleeping, and mother and daughter were alone. 
 
 " Mamma," said Mildred, in a low, troubled tone, " it 
 seemed to me that papa acted very strangely this afternoon 
 and evening. Can he be well ?"
 
 A SHADOW. 105 
 
 " Oh, Millie," cried the loving, anxious wife, " I fear he 
 is not well at all ; and no wonder, when we think of the long 
 strain he has been under. Haven' t you noticed that his ap 
 petite is very poor ? to-night he scarcely ate a mouthful. He 
 has just been trying to keep up ever since he came, and this 
 afternoon he made unusual effort ; reaction of course fol 
 lowed, and at last he was so weary and troubled that he could 
 not hide his feelings from us. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I suppose you take the right view, ' ' said Mildred hesi 
 tatingly, " but papa has not seemed the same this afternoon 
 as at other times when tired and worried. His gayety was a 
 little extravagant, and so it might naturally be if it were 
 forced. But I can't understand his speaking to young Mr. 
 Atwood as he did. Papa never showed such a lack of tact 
 or delicacy before. I would not dare tell him things if he 
 spoke of them afterward so inopportunely. I felt as if I 
 could sink into the ground. And when Belle who can't 
 help seeing everything in a ridiculous light began to laugh 
 he turned and spoke to her as he has never spoken to any of 
 us before. And yet he did not seem angry, but his gravity 
 was more oppressive than any amount of natural anger. 
 
 " Well, Millie, your father is very kind-hearted, and, like 
 all Southern men, very sensitive to kindness and courtesy. I 
 suppose he thought that you and Belle had not treated Roger 
 well, and that he ought to make amends. The real expla 
 nation is that he is overstrained and unhappy, and so cannot 
 act like himself." 
 
 " I do hope he is not going to be ill, ' ' faltered Mildred. 
 ' ' ' Such a strange lethargy came over him after you left us. 
 Oh, the day is ending horribly, and it leaves a weight of 
 foreboding on my mind. I wish we could get away to-mor 
 row, for I feel that Roger Atwood is watching us, and that 
 nothing escapes him. I know that papa's manner seemed 
 strange to him as well as to us, and I almost hate him for his
 
 106 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 obtrusive and prying interest. Why can't he see that he's 
 nothing to us, nor we to him, and let us alone ?" 
 
 She often recalled these words in after years. 
 
 The wife went to her room and found that her husband 
 was sleeping quietly. Returning, she said, more cheerily, 
 " I think papa will be like himself after a good night's sleep, 
 and there's every promise now that he'll get it ; so don't look 
 on the dark side, Millie, nor worry about that young man. 
 He don't mean to be obtrusive, and I must say that I think 
 he behaves very well considering. With troubles like ours, 
 why think of such a transient annoyance ? If I only knew 
 just how I could help your father I would not think about 
 much else." 
 
 It would have been well indeed if she could have known, 
 for she would have taken from his pocketbook a small 
 syringe and a bottle of Magendie's solution of morphia ; she 
 ^vould have entreated him upon her knees, she would have 
 bound him by the strongest oaths to die rather than to use it 
 again. The secret of all that was peculiar and unnatural in 
 his conduct can be explained by the fact that early in the 
 afternoon he went apart for a moment, and with a little in 
 nocent-looking instrument injected into his arm the amount 
 of the fatal drug which he believed he could enjoy without 
 betraying himself.
 
 VIEWLESS FETTERS. 107 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 VIEWLESS FETTERS. 
 
 A LTHOUGH Mr. Jocelyn had retired so early and 
 /A. slept heavily until an hour that at the farm-house 
 was late, the reader knows that his sleep was not the natural 
 repose which brings freshness and elasticity. His wife and 
 Mildred, however, did not know this, and his* languor, con 
 tinued drowsiness, and depression, which even much effort 
 could not disguise, confirmed their dread of an impending 
 illness. He saw their anxiety, and took advantage of their 
 fears to hide his weakness. 
 
 ; ' Yes," he sighed, in response to their gentle solicitude as 
 he pushed away his almost untasted breakfast, " I suppose 
 my health has been impaired by worry of mind and the heat 
 in town. I'm better, though, than I have been. I don't see 
 how you are going to endure the city. ' ' 
 
 They both assured him, however, that they would not even 
 consider any other arrangement except that already agreed 
 upon, and urged that he should return to town that very day, 
 his wife adding that just as soon as he had secured rooms 
 within their means she would join him and prepare them for 
 the family. 
 
 " Oh, Nan," he again said dejectedly, "it's a cruel fate 
 which compels me to take you to a tenement-house in 
 August. ' ' 
 
 " It would be far more cruel to leave me here," his wife 
 answered earnestly. " I could be happy anywhere if you
 
 io8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 were your old natural self once more. Millie and I can both 
 see that struggling alone and brooding by yourself over your 
 troubles is not good for you," and her gentle but determined 
 purpose carried the day. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn was then directed to a somewhat distant field, 
 where he found Roger, who readily agreed to take him to the 
 steamboat landing in the afternoon. Lifting his eyes from 
 his work a few moments afterward, the young man saw that 
 his visitor, instead of returning to the house, had sat down 
 under a clump of trees and had buried his face in his hands. 
 
 ;< There's a screw loose about that man," he muttered. 
 " He's too uneven. Yesterday at dinner he was the most 
 perfect gentleman ever I saw ; in the afternoon he had a 
 fit of pompous hilarity and condescension ; then came ab 
 straction, as if his mind had stepped out for a time ; and now, 
 after twelve hours of sleep, instead of feeling like a lark, he 
 looks as though he might attend his own funeral before night, 
 and walks as if his feet were lead. He mopes there under 
 the trees when he has but a few more hours with his family. 
 If I had such a wife and such a daughter as he has, I' d cut a 
 swath for them, no matter what stood in the way." 
 
 But Roger's censure was slight compared with that which 
 Mr. Jocelyn visited upon himself ; and in order to under 
 stand his feelings and conduct, it will be necessary to relate 
 some experiences which occurred after the departure of his 
 family to the country. Throughout the entire winter he had 
 been under a severe strain of business anxiety, and then had 
 come the culminating scenes of failure, loss of income, and 
 enforced and unhappy separation. His natural depression 
 had been so increased by the meagre prospect of finding em 
 ployment which would yield his family an adequate support, 
 that even his increased and more frequent indulgence in his 
 morphia powders failed to give sufficient hopefulness and 
 courage, while at the same time they began to produce some
 
 VIEWLESS FETTERS. 109 
 
 serious disorders in his system. There is a class of diseases 
 which rarely fails to attack one whose system is reduced and 
 enfeebled, and neuralgia began to bind across his forehead a 
 daily pressure of pain that at last became intolerable. Ordi 
 nary remedies not giving speedy relief, his physician injected 
 into his arm a few drops of the solution of morphia. Thus 
 far he had never used the drug in solution hypodermically, 
 and he was much surprised by the agreeable effects of a very 
 much smaller quantity than he had been accustomed to use 
 on any one occasion, and his morphia hunger already firmly 
 established immediately suggested that the little syringe 
 might become a far more potent agent than the powders. 
 Therefore he induced the physician to give him an order for 
 the instrument, and to explain more fully the methods of its 
 use, saying that attacks of neuralgia were generally rather 
 obstinate in his case, and that he had neither the time nor 
 the means to seek his services very often. 
 
 The physician's few words of warning made but slight im 
 pression upon the infatuated man at the time. Mr. Joce- 
 lyn remembered only that he had an intolerable pain in 
 his head and a heavy weight upon his heart. Many a 
 time during the long civil war he had smilingly led charges 
 wherein the chances of death were greater than those of 
 life, but neither then nor since had he ever displayed any 
 great aptitude for quiet endurance and self-control. Now every 
 day was precious, and he felt he could not give himself up to 
 pain and patient waiting until the disease could be conquered 
 in a slow, legitimate way, when by a wound no more than a 
 pin-prick he could obtain courage, happiness, and prospects 
 illimitable. 
 
 Having- obtained the syringe and a vial of the solution of 
 morphia, he injected into his arm a much larger quantity 
 than the physician would have dreamed of employing. Not 
 only did the unendurable anguish pass away within a few brief
 
 HO WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 moments, but the world was transfigured ; life's grim outlook 
 became full of the richest promise, and discouragement and 
 dread vanished utterly. So far from fearing that he could 
 not provide for his family, he was sure that he could win for 
 them abundance and luxury. A dozen avenues to fortune 
 opened before him, and he felt that his only task was to 
 choose, believing that in some indefinite yet easily discerned 
 way he would achieve more than falls to the lot of most men 
 to accomplish. Instead of a long, sleepless night like those 
 which had preceded, his waking dreams ended in quiet and 
 equally pleasant visions then oblivion, which did not pass 
 away until the morning sun was shining. But with the new 
 day came a new access of pain and gloom, and the aid of the 
 magic little instrument was invoked once more. Again 
 within a few moments the potent drug produced a tranquil 
 elysium and a transformed world of grand possibilities. With 
 a vigor which seemed boundless, and hopes which repeated 
 disappointments could not dampen, he continued his quest 
 for employment until in the declining day his spirits and 
 energy ebbed as strangely as they had risen in the morning, 
 and after another night of dreams and stupor he awoke in 
 torture. The powerful stimulant enabled him to repeat the 
 experiences of the previous day, and for two or three weeks 
 he lived in the fatal but fascinating opium paradise, gradually 
 increasing the amount of morphia that his system, dulled by 
 habit, demanded. In the mean time, by the lavish use of 
 quinine he gradually banished his neuralgia with its attendant 
 pain. 
 
 It is well known to those familiar with the character of 
 opium that its effects are greatly enhanced at first by any de 
 cided change in the method of its use ; also that its most 
 powerful and immediate influences can be produced solely by 
 the hypodermic needle, since by means of it the stimulant 
 is introduced at once into the system. When taken in
 
 VIEWLESS FETTERS. Ill 
 
 powders, the glow, the serenity, and exaltation come on 
 more slowly, and more gradually pass away, causing alterna 
 tions of moods far less noticeable than those produced by 
 immediate injection of the poison. Therefore it was not at 
 all strange that Mr. Jocelyn's family should remain in com 
 plete ignorance of the habit which was enslaving him, or that 
 his behavior failed to excite the faintest suspicion of the 
 threatening influences at work. There is no vice so secret as 
 that of the opium slave's, none that is in its earlier stages more 
 easily and generally concealed from those who are nearest 
 and dearest. The changes produced in Mr. Jocelyn were 
 very gradual, and seeing him daily even his loving wife did 
 not note them. 
 
 During the period of unnatural exaltation that has 
 been described he had accepted agencies which prom 
 ised thousands if he could sell millions of dollars' worth 
 of goods, and after the subtle morphia had infused itself 
 through his system nothing seemed easier ; but dreams are 
 not realities, and after grand hopes unfulfilled, and futile 
 efforts, he would sink into a despondency from which nothing 
 could lift him save the little syringe that he carried hidden 
 next to his heart. As its magic never failed him, he went on 
 for a time, blind to the consequences. At last he began to 
 grow more alarmed than ever before at the ascendency of the 
 drug and his dependence upon it, but when he tried to dis 
 continue its use he found that he had been living so long 
 under the influence of a powerful stimulant that without it he 
 sank like a stone. Then came the usual compromise of all 
 weak souls he would gradually decrease the amount and 
 then the frequency of its use ; but, as is generally the case, he 
 put off the beginning of sturdy self-denial until the morrow, 
 and almost every day he poisoned his system with that which 
 also poisoned and demoralized his soul. He dimly saw his 
 danger, but did not realize it. With the fatuity of all self-
 
 112 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 indulgent natures he thought the day would come when, 
 with better prospects and health renewed, he would throw 
 away the spell which bound him and become a free man. 
 but day alter day passed and he did not ; his appetite 
 began to flag and his energy also ; he would sit dreaming for 
 hours when he might have been at work. At best his agen 
 cies would give him but a scanty revenue, although pushed 
 with extraordinary skill and vigor. As it was, they yielded 
 him little more than personal support, and he began to en 
 tertain the hope that if he could only obtain regular employ 
 ment he could then resume his old regular habits. There 
 fore he had agreed to accept a position which was little more 
 than a foothold, and yet if he would go to work with a deter 
 mined and patient industry he might, by means of it, win 
 more than he had lost. 
 
 Could he do this ? The Sunday he had just spent with 
 his family had awakened him as never before to a sense of his 
 bondage. Even with the society of those he loved to enliven 
 and sustain he had felt that he could not get through the day 
 without the help of the stimulant upon which he had grown so 
 dependent. While at church it was not the clergyman' s voice 
 he heard, but a low yet imperious and incessant cry for 
 opium. As he rode home, smiling upon his wife and chil 
 dren, and looking at the beautiful and diversified country, 
 between them and the landscape he ever saw a little brass 
 instrument gauged at four or five times the amount that the 
 physician had at first inserted in his arm. At the dinner table 
 he had spoken courteously and well on many subjects, and 
 yet ever uppermost in his mind was one constant thought 
 opium. The little diabolical thing itself seemed alive in his 
 pocket, and made its faint yet potent solicitation against his 
 heart. At last he had muttered, " I will just take a little of 
 the cursed stuff, and then I must begin to break myself in 
 dead earnest."
 
 VIEWLESS FETTERS. 113 
 
 The reader knows what followed. Moreover, he was led to 
 fear that the alternations of moods caused by injections of 
 morphia would be so great that they could not fail to excite 
 remark. Although the new day brought every motive which 
 can influence a man, Mr. Jocelyn found the path to freedom 
 so steep and difficult that the ascent seemed well-nigh im 
 possible. His muscles were relaxed, his whole frame so 
 weary and limp that he even dreaded the effort required to 
 return to the house where his family was waiting for him. 
 But the physical oppression was nothing to that which weighed 
 upon his mind. The sense of misery and discouragement 
 was paralyzing, and he was fairly appalled by his lack of 
 energy. And yet he felt his need of power and resolution as 
 keenly as he realized his feebleness. He knew that he had 
 appeared unnatural to his wife and children, and that while 
 they now ascribed his behavior to the long strain he had been 
 under, their loving and charitable blindness could not last if 
 he often exhibited before them such variable moods and 
 conditions. Therefore he felt that he must overcome the 
 habit before they were together permanently, for to permit 
 them to discover his vile weakness in this time of their great 
 need would be a mortal wound to his pride. All his man 
 hood revolted at the bare thought? Their trust, their love, 
 their dependence and unrepining courage in meeting poverty 
 and privation with him imposed the strongest and most 
 sacred of obligations, and his high sense of honor which 
 hitherto had been his religion made failure to meet these 
 obligations the most awful disaster that could overwhelm him. 
 The means of escaping from his wretchedness and dejection 
 from the horrible lassitude of body and soul could be 
 grasped in a moment, and the temptation to use them and 
 become within a few minutes a strong, sanguine, courageous 
 man was almost irresistible ; but he knew well that such an 
 abrupt change from the heavy, dull-eyed condition in which
 
 H4 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 they had seen him at the breakfast table could not fail to 
 arouse suspicion ; and should they once discern his crime 
 for crime he now regarded it he feared his self-respect would 
 be so destroyed that he would never have the pride and 
 strength for the struggle now clearly foreseen ; therefore, with 
 the instinct of self-preservation, and from the impulse of all 
 his native and long-fostered Southern pride, he resolved that 
 they must never know his degradation. He must rally his 
 shattered forces, spend the few hours before his departure with 
 his family in a way t lull all fears and surmises ; then when 
 away by himself he would tug at his chain until he broke it. 
 Summoning the whole strength of his will he returned to the 
 house, and succeeded fairly well. 
 
 Could he break his chain ? The coming pages of this 
 book will reveal his struggle and its termination. Alas ! it 
 is no fancy sketch, but a record of human experience that is 
 becoming sadly frequent. The hunger for opium had grown 
 upon Mr. Jocelyn by its almost constant use for nearly two 
 years. During weeks of pain he had almost lived upon the 
 drug, saturating his system with it. It had come to him like 
 an angel of light, lifting him on buoyant pinions out of suf 
 fering and despondency, but the light was fading from the 
 wings and brow of this STrong spirit, and it was already seen 
 to be an angel of darkness. 
 
 At this time Mr. Jocelyn might have escaped from his 
 thraldom, but would he ? The world is full of people who 
 are proud and self-respecting in the extreme, who are hon 
 orable and virtuous, good and kindly at heart, but whose 
 wills are nerveless, though they may go safely through life 
 without suspecting this truth ; but if they fall under the in 
 fluence of an evil habit if they pass under this mightiest and 
 darkest of all spells, opium hunger they may learn their 
 weakness in despair. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn, however, had no thought of despair ; he was
 
 VIEWLESS FETTERS. 115' 
 
 only surprised, humiliated, and somewhat alarmed ; he was 
 satisfied that he must drift no longer, and in perfect sincerity 
 resolved to make the most of his brief separation from his 
 family, hoping that with a physician's advice he could speedily 
 overcome his morbid craving and distressing need. He left 
 the farm-house with the resolution that he would never touch 
 the drug again, believing that before a week expired the 
 horrible depression, both mental and physical, would so far 
 pass away as to excite no further suspicion. 
 
 For an hour he rode at Roger' s side, rigid, taciturn, and 
 pale ; for except when heated by exercise his wonted ruddy 
 color was passing away from the effects of the poison. Roger 
 drove around to the large hotel, which was not much out of 
 their way, and said, " Mr. Jocelyn, will you please take the 
 lines a few momenta ? I have an errand here, but it won't 
 keep me long." 
 
 Having transacted his business he stood in the office door 
 watching a young man who sauntered toward him. The 
 stranger was almost as tall as himself, but much slighter. 
 While his carriage was easy and graceful, it was marked by 
 an air of lassitude and weariness, and his step lacked firmness. 
 A heavy mustache relieved his face from effeminacy, but his 
 large, dark eyes were dull and apathetic. Suddenly they 
 lighted up with recognition ; he hesitated, and then hastily 
 advanced toward Mr. Jocelyn, but his steps were speedily 
 checked, for the moment the gentleman recognized him he 
 bowed very coldly and turned haughtily away. The young 
 man flushed deeply, stood still a moment in irresolution, and 
 then with a swift glance into Roger's interested face turned 
 and quickly disappeared. Before Roger could resume his 
 place in the wagon the proprietor of the hotel came out and 
 called him back ; something had been forgotten. 
 
 This interruption was fatal to Mr. Jocelyn' s good resolu 
 tions. Vinton Arnold, who had won his daughter' s affee-
 
 Il6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 tion, but who seemingly had not the manhood to be faithful 
 in her adversity, was the one whom he had repulsed, and the 
 thought of his wealth and luxury, while he was on his way 
 to seek a home in a tenement for his beautiful child, so 
 maddened him that he drove recklessly to an adjacent shed, 
 which shielded him from observation, snatched out his fatal 
 syringe, and in a moment the poison was diffusing itself 
 through all his system. He had returned again before 
 Roger, who had been detained some moments, reappeared, 
 but now his heavy eyes were bright and fiery, and his tongue 
 unloosed. 
 
 ' ' Did you see that young man to whom I refused to 
 speak ?' ' he asked as they drove away. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, he's a white-livered scoundrel. He's a type of 
 your Northern gentlemen. A Southern man would starve 
 rather than act so pusillanimously. Of course I' m not going 
 to talk of family secrets, or say anything not befitting a high- 
 toned gentleman, but I taught that snob how a man of honor 
 regards his cowardice and cold-bloodedness. He was one of 
 our fair-weather friends, who promptly disappeared when the 
 sky clouded. Here he is, dawdling around a high-priced 
 hotel, while I'm on my way to seek rooms in a tenement for 
 those to whom he is not worthy to speak ; but the time shall 
 come, and speedily, too, when even on the base plane of 
 money the sole claim of his proud family for consideration 
 we shall meet him and scorn him as his superiors. I 
 have plans, business prospects ' and he launched forth 
 into such a vague, wild statement of his projects that Roger 
 looked at him in silent amazement, half doubting his sanity. 
 
 In his haste Mr. Jocelyn had not carefully gauged his 
 syringe, and the over-amount of morphia thrown into his 
 system so stimulated him that his words appeared exceedingly 
 irrational to the young man, whose judgment was based on
 
 VIEWLESS FETTERS. 1 17 
 
 unusual shrewdness and common-sense. He was greatly 
 puzzled by the sudden change in his companion. It was 
 evident that he had not been drinking, for his breath was 
 untainted and his utterance was natural. But his face was 
 flushed, and he seemed possessed by a strange, unbalanced 
 mental exaltation which led him to speak as no sensible man 
 ought in any circumstances, and certainly not to a stranger. 
 Roger therefore interrupted him, saying, " I shall respect 
 your confidence, Mr. Jocelyn, and will never repeat what you 
 have said. Please let me suggest, however, that it would be 
 wise not to speak so frankly to others, since they might take 
 advantage of you. ' ' 
 
 " Please let me assure you," resumed Mr. Jocelyn, with 
 the most impressive dignity, ' ' that I am a man of the world, 
 and that I have seen a great deal of the world. I can read 
 men as you would read a book. If you were not trust 
 worthy I should know it at a glance. Did you not see how 
 I treated that young jackanapes ? His wealth and elegance 
 did not impose upon me in the least. You are trustworthy. 
 You have a large, aspiring mind, and yet you know your 
 station ; you would not dream of presuming. What does 
 it signify that we are poor for the moment ? True Southern 
 blood is in our veins, and I have a dozen plans for securing 
 large wealth. When that day comes I shall remember those 
 who basely turned their backs on us in our brief obscurity ;" 
 and thus he rambled on, while Roger listened coldly and in 
 silence. 
 
 ' There is method in his madness," he said to himself ; 
 " he is not so daft but that he hints broadly I must keep my 
 station and not be ' presuming. ' His proud daughter hints 
 as much still more plainly. Well, we'll see whose dreams 
 find the larger fulfilment his or mine. ' ' 
 
 By the time they reached the landing the sun was low in 
 the west, and his companion had become comparatively silent,
 
 Ii8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 dreamy, and abstracted. Half an hour later Roger went on 
 board of the boat with some solicitude to see how he was 
 faring. Mr. Jocelyn started out of what appeared a deep 
 reverie as Roger addressed him, and said, after a moment's 
 thought, ' ' Please say to my family that you left me well, and 
 safely on my way," and with a quiet and rather distant bow 
 he resumed his absorbing thoughts. 
 
 The steamer moved away, but instead of returning directly 
 home Roger went back to the hotel. Even amid the hallu 
 cinations of opium the father had too much instinctive 
 delicacy to mention Mildred' s name or to make any reference 
 to Arnold's intentions ; but the quick-witted fellow gained 
 the impression that the elegant young stranger had been a 
 welcome and favored suitor in the past better days, and he 
 had a consuming wish to see and study the kind of man that 
 he surmised had been pleasing to Mildred. As he rode 
 along, pity for the girl took the place ot resentment. ' ' Not 
 our plain little farm-house, but the fashionable hotel, is the 
 place where she would feel the most at home, ' ' he thought. 
 " And yet she is going to a tenement-house ! There, too, 
 she'll stay, I fear, for all that her father will ever do for her. 
 If he's not off his balance, I never saw a man that was."
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 
 
 ROGER sat out on the dusky piazza of the hotel, look 
 ing into the large parlor through open windows 
 which came to the floor, bent on making the most of such 
 glimpses as he could obtain of the world to which he felt that 
 Mildred belonged by right. He saw clearly that she would 
 appear well and at home amid such surroundings. A young 
 and elegantly dressed woman crossed the wide apartment, and 
 he muttered, ' ' Your carriage is very fine and fashionable, no 
 doubt, but Miss Jocelyn would have added grace and nature 
 to your regulation gait. ' ' He watched the groups at the card- 
 tables with a curious interest, and the bobbing heads of 
 gossiping dowagers and matrons ; he compared the remark 
 able ' ' make up, "as he phrased it, of some of them with 
 the unredeemed plainness of his mother's Sunday gown. 
 " Neither the one nor the other is in good taste," he 
 thought ' ' Mrs. Jocelyn dresses as I intend my mother shall 
 some day." He coolly criticised a score or more of young 
 men and women who were chatting, promenading, flitting 
 through the open windows out upon the piazza and back 
 again into the light, as a small stringed orchestra struck into 
 a lively galop or the latest waltz. He saw a general muster 
 ing of the younger guests, even down to the boys and girls, 
 for the Lancers, and followed one and another that caught his 
 eye through the mazy intricacies, making little gestures of 
 disgust at those who seemed outre and peculiar in manner and 
 appearance, and regarding with the closest observation such
 
 120 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 as exhibited a happy mean between a certain rusticity and 
 awkwardness with which he was well acquainted, and a con 
 ventional artificiality which was to him all the more unnatural 
 and absurd because his perception was not dulled by 
 familiarity with society's passing whims. 
 
 The young stranger whom Mr. Jocelyn had repulsed, and 
 who was the real object of his quest, did not appear among 
 the pleasure-seekers, nor could he discover him on the piazza, 
 in the billiard-room, or in other places of resort. At last in 
 much disappointment he returned to his seat, from which he 
 commanded a view of the parlor ; and scarcely had he done 
 so before the one he sought mounted the steps near him as if 
 returning from a stroll in the hotel grounds, threw away a 
 cigar, and entered an open window with the same graceful, 
 listless saunter witnessed in the afternoon. He crossed the 
 wide apartment with as much ease and nonchalance as if it 
 had been empty, and sat down on a sofa by a somewhat stout 
 and very elegantly apparelled gentlewoman. 
 
 Roger never thought of accounting for the intensity of his 
 interest in this stranger the young rarely analyze their 
 feelings but, obedient to an impulse to learn this man's 
 power to win the favor of one so unapproachable by himself, 
 he scanned with keenest scrutiny everything in his appearance 
 and manner, and sought eagerly to gauge his character. 
 
 He felt instinctively that the ' ' cold-blooded snob, ' ' as Mr. 
 Jocelyn had characterized him, was of the very opposite type 
 to his own. His graceful saunter, which, nevertheless, 
 possessed a certain quiet dignity, suggested a burdensome 
 leisure and an utter lack f purpose to go anywhere or do 
 anything. He dropped on the sofa rather than sat down. 
 The lady at his side spoke rather decidedly to him, and he 
 answered briefly without even looking at her. By and by she 
 spoke again, more energetically ; he then slowly arose, ap 
 proached a- young woman sitting near, who in response to
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 12 1 
 
 something he said sprang up with alacrity, and they glided 
 away in the waltz with an ease and grace scarcely equalled by 
 the others upon the floor. After a few moments they circled 
 around very near Roger's post of observation, and he was 
 able to scan both the features and expression of the man 
 whom he felt inclined to hate. But he was disarmed and 
 perplexed, for the stranger showed no more pleasure or ani 
 mation than would a fallen leaf that was swept here and there 
 by varying eddies of wind. He kept time and step with per 
 fect accuracy, but evidently from such complete familiarity 
 with the form that he gave it not a thought. He danced as 
 easily as a bird flies, avoiding the others without appearing 
 to notice them. No color came from the exercise, no light 
 kindled in his face. His expression was notl/lase or cynical, 
 but weary and dejected ; the melancholy in his large brown 
 eyes was all the more striking from contrast with the music, 
 the lighted room, and an amusement suggesting gayety. 
 Pale, utterly unresponsive to the brilliant and mirthful scenes, 
 he glided ghost-like here and there, and before very long 
 seated his companion by the elderly woman whose urgency 
 had led to his automaton-like performance. Then with a 
 slight bow he passed through a window near and disappeared. 
 The two ladies spoke together for a few moments and 
 seemed annoyed, and Roger now noted such a resemblance 
 between them as to suggest that they were mother and 
 daughter. 
 
 He had seen sufficient to satisfy him, and he went away 
 muttering, " There isn't enough of him to hate ; he's but 
 the shadow of a man. She fancy him ! I couldn't have 
 believed it ; I can't account for it, unless he's very gifted in 
 mind or very different when with her. This must be true, 
 and he would be a mummy indeed if she couldn't wake him 
 up." 
 
 Roger rode home, however, ill at ease. " He hasn't for-
 
 122 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 gotten her if he has given her up on account of her poverty," 
 he thought " He could see as well as I that there was no 
 one there who could compare with her ; but he mopes in 
 stead of trying to win her. If he can dance, why can't he 
 work ? I've no reason to complain, however, and I thank 
 my stars that I have muscle and a will. In the mean time I 
 shall come up here and study your tricks of manner, my ele 
 gant nonentity. I believe in force. Force moves the world 
 and carries a man through it ; but I now see that it should be 
 well-managed and well-mannered force. Miss Jocelyn com 
 pares me with you, and I seem to her uncouth, unfinished, 
 and crude in the extreme. Litheness and grace need not 
 take an atom from my strength, and the time shall come 
 when I will not fear comparisons. I'll win her yet with your 
 own weapons." 
 
 Roger's dreams proved that his sympathies with the mel 
 ancholy stranger were not very deep, and that his idea of 
 the survival of the fittest was the survival of the strongest. 
 His human nature at that time was of the old Saxon type, 
 that went directly for what it wanted, without much thought 
 or sentiment for those weak enough to lose. 
 
 Although it was rather late before he reached home, he 
 found his mother, Mrs. Jocelyn, and Mildred waiting for him 
 in the sitting-room. 
 
 " What kept you so ?" Mrs. Atwood exclaimed. 
 
 " I stopped a while at the hotel on my return," he replied. 
 
 ' ' Did my husband send any message ?' ' Mrs. Jocelyn 
 asked, with a solicitude she could not disguise. 
 
 " He told me to say that I had left him well, and safely on 
 his way to the city. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Did did he seem well when you left him ?' ' the anxious 
 wife persisted. 
 
 ' ' Quite as well as he did yesterday, I think, ' ' was the reply. 
 
 1 ' Mr. Atwood, ' ' said Mildred, in a tone that startled him
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 123 
 
 a little, and he saw she was looking at him as if she would 
 read his thoughts, ' ' did my father truly appear well when 
 you parted from him ?' ' 
 
 Roger's eyes fell before hers, but he replied firmly, " I left 
 him sitting quietly on the steamboat's deck, and when I 
 asked him if he had any message for his family, he said the 
 words I have just repeated. He seemed naturally depressed 
 at leaving you all. If he were not well he did not say any 
 thing about it ;" and with a bow he passed up to his room. 
 
 " Mother," said Mildred, when they were alone, " was it 
 mere diffidence, or why was it, that he could not look me in 
 the eyes ? I wonder if he is concealing anything. It was 
 in the afternoon and evening that papa was unlike himself 
 yesterday. I wish I really knew whether or not that young 
 man is hiding anything, for I have an impression that he is." 
 
 ' ' Oh, it was diffidence, Millie. He would have no motive 
 in hiding the truth from us. I can see that he is both fasci 
 nated by you and afraid of you poor fellow !" 
 
 " A few weeks in the cornfield and a few smiles from the 
 girls hereabouts will banish all his nonsense concerning me. 
 I don' t give him a thought except that his absurd feelings 
 annoy me. Oh, mamma, you understand me. What he 
 would like to offer is such a grotesque parody on that which 
 I hoped for, on what I imagined I possessed, that it makes 
 me sick. Oh, oh !" she sobbed, " I must give it all up. Mr. 
 Arnold acts as if I were dead ; and practically I am to him, 
 although he may sigh and mope a little, perhaps. There, 
 I'm wronging him ; I know I wrong him. How can I forget 
 his white, deathlike face and look of mortal pain. Oh that 
 he had this young fellow's muscle and courage ! I do not 
 care for his money ; I would be content with him in one 
 bare room. But as it is I fear, I fear ;' ' and the poor child 
 buried her face in her mother's lap, and cried away some of 
 her weight of foreboding.
 
 124 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Millie, darling," faltered her mother, " God knows I'd 
 shield your heart with my own if I could, but I don't know 
 how to help you. You are too much like me. Your love 
 is your life, and you can't stop loving just because it would 
 be wise and thrifty to do so. I think of you almost as much 
 as I do of Martin, and I daily pray the merciful Saviour, who 
 was ' tempted in all points like as we are,' to sustain and 
 comfort you. I don' t see how I can help you in any other 
 way, for my own heart shows me just how you suffer." 
 
 " There, little mother," said Mildred, raising her head 
 and wiping her eyes, " I've had my cry, and feel the better 
 for it I'm going to help you and papa and be brave. I'm 
 glad I'm like you. I'm glad I'm a true Southern girl, and 
 that I can love as you loved ; and I would despise myself if 
 I could invest my heart and reinvest it like so much stock. 
 Such a woman is cold-blooded and unnatural, and you are 
 the dearest little mother and wife that ever breathed." 
 
 " Oh, Millie, Millie, if I had only foreseen and guarded 
 against this evil day !" 
 
 "Come, dear mamma, don't always be blaming yourself 
 for what you did not foresee. You are eager to do your 
 best now, and that is all God or man can ask of us. These 
 clouds will pass away some time, and then the sunshine will 
 be all the brighter. ' ' 
 
 The next few days of waiting and uncertainty were a severer 
 ordeal to Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred than ever. Mr. Jocelyn, 
 bent on gaining time, kept putting them off. His new duties 
 upon which he had entered, he wrote, left him only the even 
 ing hours for his quest of rooms, and he had not succeeded 
 in finding any that were suitable. Thus they expected some 
 thing definite by every mail, but each day brought renewed 
 disappointment. At last Mildred wrote that she would come 
 down herself if he did not decide upon something at once. 
 
 The morning after this letter was dispatched the young
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 125 
 
 girl took her work out under some wide-boughed hemlocks 
 that stood beside the quiet country road, along which a farmer 
 occasionally jogged to the village beyond, but which at that 
 hour was usually quite deserted. Fred and Minnie were with 
 her, and amused themselves by building little log huts with 
 the dry sticks thickly scattered around. 
 
 To Roger, who was cradling oats in an adjacent field, 
 they made a picture which would always repeat itself when 
 ever he passed that clump of hemlocks ; and, as he cut his way 
 down the long slope toward them, under the midsummer 
 sun, he paused a second alter each stroke to look with 
 wistful gaze at one now rarely absent from his mental vision. 
 She was too sad and preoccupied to give him a thought, or 
 even to note who the reaper was. From her shady retreat 
 she could see him and other men at work here and there, and 
 she only envied their definite and fairly rewarded toil, and 
 their simple yet assured home-life, while she was working so 
 blindly, and facing, in the mean time, a world of uncertainty. 
 Roger had been very unobtrusive since her father's departure, 
 and she half consciously gave him credit for this when she 
 thought about him at all, which was but seldom. He had 
 imagined that she had grown less distant and reserved, and 
 once or twice, when he had shown some little kindness to the 
 children, she had smiled upon him. He was a hunter of no 
 mean repute in that region, and was famous for his skill in 
 following shy and scarce game. He had resolved to bring 
 the principles of his woodcraft to bear upon Mildred, and to 
 make his future approaches so cautiously as not to alarm her 
 in the least ; therefore he won the children's favor more 
 thoroughly than ever, but not in an officious way. He found 
 Belle moping the evening after her father' s departure, and he 
 gave her a swift drive in his buggy, which little attention 
 completely disarmed the warm-hearted girl and became the 
 basis of a fast-ripening frienasmp
 
 126 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 1 ' You need not put on such distant airs, ' ' she had said to 
 Mildred ; " he never mentions your name any more." But 
 when he asked Mrs. Jocelyn to take a drive with him she had 
 declined very kindly, for she feared that he might speak to 
 her of her daughter in an embarrassing way. Over Belle, 
 Mildred had little control in such matters, but as far as she 
 and her mother were concerned she determined that he should 
 have no encouragement whatever ; for, although he made no 
 further efforts either to shun or obtain her society, and had 
 become quite as reserved as herself, he unconsciously, yet 
 very clearly, revealed his state of mind to her womanly in 
 tuition. 
 
 " There is one thing queer about Roger Atwood," said 
 Belle, joining her sister under the hemlocks ; "he now 
 scarcely ever speaks of himself. I suppose he thinks I'd be 
 silly enough to go and tell everything as you did." 
 
 <( What do you talk about then ?" asked Mildred, with a 
 half smile. 
 
 ' ' Oh, you are a little curious, are you ? perhaps a little 
 jealous, too, that he was so very easily cured of his admiration 
 for you. If it were any secret, I wouldn't tell you. We 
 talk about what we see, and it seems to me he sees every 
 thing. If a bird flies across the road he will point out its 
 peculiarities, and he knows so much about the trees and 
 bushes and wild flowers and the little creatures in the woods, 
 how they live, and all that. He says a man's a fool that 
 doesn't see all that's going on around him. Sometimes he 
 makes me ache from laughing over his funny descriptions of 
 the queer characters that live about here. But what interests 
 me most is his accounts of the people at the hotel. Oh r I 
 do wish mother would let me go there with him some even 
 ing ! He is there nearly every night, and it's as good as 
 a play to hear him take off the affected, snobbish ones. He
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 127 
 
 has caught the English drawl and the yeh know ' of some 
 young fellows to perfection." 
 
 " He is a queer fellow," mused Mildred. " I wonder 
 what he goes there for ?" 
 
 " Oh, Roger Atwood is no fool, I can tell you. He 
 knows country society to perfection, and he would not be 
 long in understanding Fifth Avenue noodledom just as well. 
 He detects sham people and sham ways as quickly as you 
 could, and delights in ridiculing them. He says there's a 
 ghost of a man up there which interests him exceedingly, but 
 that it is such an extremely well-behaved, good-mannered 
 ghost that it is tolerated without remark, and that is all he 
 will say about it, although I have often questioned him. I 
 can' t think who or what he means. ' ' 
 
 Mildred looked up with a sudden access of interest, and 
 then became silent and abstracted. 
 
 " Since the children are quiet here," continued Belle, " I'll 
 go back to the house and finish a story in which the hero 
 and heroine are sentimental geese and blind as bats. They 
 misunderstand each other so foolishly that I'd like to bob 
 their empty heads together," and away she went, humming 
 a gay song, with as little thought for the morrow as the birds 
 in the fields around her. 
 
 While Roger paused a moment to wipe the perspiration 
 from his brow, the rustling of the grain ceased, and he heard 
 the footfalls of a horse in the adjacent road. With a start he 
 saw riding by the stranger who had been the object of his 
 continued scrutiny at the hotel. The young man restrained 
 to a walk the rather restless horse he bestrode, and seemed 
 musing deeply under the shadow of a broad-brimmed Panama 
 hat. He took no notice of Roger, and passing slowly on en 
 tered the shadow of the hemlocks, when an exclamation 
 caused him to raise his head. A second later he sprang from 
 his horse, threw the bridle over the limb of a tree, and seized
 
 128 WITHO UT A HOME, 
 
 Mildred's hand with an eagerness which proved that she had 
 indeed the power to ' ' wake him up. ' ' 
 
 Roger was too distant to see just how she greeted her un 
 looked-for friend of other days, but thought she appeared so 
 startled that she leaned against a tree for support. He saw, 
 however, that the ' ' ghost of a man' ' was now flesh and 
 blood in his earnestness, and that he retained her hand in 
 both of his own while speaking rapidly. Before very long, 
 however, the horse became so impatient that he sud 
 denly jerked his bridle loose, wheeled, and came galloping 
 up the road toward Roger, who, after a moment's hesitation, 
 cleared the low stone wall at a bound and stood in the road 
 awaiting him. Mildred's companion made a gesture of an 
 noyance, and then said, with a shrug, ' ' Let the beast go. 
 I'm well content to remain here." When they saw Roger's 
 purpose, however, they stood watching for the outcome of 
 his effort 
 
 As Arnold for he it was saw the horse, with broken and 
 flying reins, thundering apparently right upon the motionless 
 form of a man, he exclaimed, " By Jove ! but that's a brave 
 fellow." 
 
 The vicious brute soon seemed so nearly upon the rash 
 youth that Mildred gave a slight scream of terror, but a sec 
 ond later she saw him spring lightly aside, catch one of the 
 flying reins, hold on for a few yards, half dragged, half run 
 ning, and then the animal yielded to a master. A cloud of 
 dust obscured them momentarily ; then the country-bred 
 athlete vaulted lightly into the saddle and came trotting 
 sharply toward them, riding like a centaur. She was enraged 
 at herself that her face should grow scarlet under his brief 
 glance from one to the other, but without a word he sprang 
 lightly down and began to fasten the horse securely to a tree 
 an act scarcely necessary, for the animal appeared com 
 pletely subdued.
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 129 
 
 1 ' By Jove ! my man, that was neatly done, ' ' said Arnold. 
 41 Here's a bank-note for your trouble." 
 
 " The fact that I've caught your horse does not prove me 
 a hostler, ' ' Roger replied brusquely, without looking at the 
 speaker. 
 
 Arnold now recognized the young man whom he had seen 
 with Mr. Jocelyn, and also at the hotel several times subse 
 quently. He had learned his name, and therefore began, 
 " Oh, I beg pardon ; this is Mr. Atwood ;" but before he 
 could say more a covered barouche came rapidly down the 
 hill from the opposite direction, turned with the angle of the 
 road, and passed into the shade of the hemlocks. Arnold had 
 become very pale the moment he saw it, and in its occupant 
 Roger recognized the woman whom he had seen at the hotel, 
 and whom he had learned to be the mother of the listless 
 dancer. A brief glance showed him that Mildred knew her 
 also. The lady sharply ordered her coachman to stop, and 
 after a brief but freezing look into Mildred's hot face she 
 said, in a meaning tone, " Vinton, I will esteem it a favor if 
 you will accompany me on my drive." 
 
 " I will join you presently," he said irresolutely. 
 
 " I will wait politely then until you have concluded your 
 interview," the gentlewoman remarked coldly, leaning back 
 in her carriage. 
 
 Hei look, tone, and action stung Mildred to the very 
 quick. Gentle and retiring usually, she was capable of a very 
 decided and even an aggressive course under great provoca 
 tion. For a moment her warm Southern blood boiled at 
 Mrs. Arnold's implication that she was so eager to capture 
 her wealthy son that it was not prudent to leave them alone 
 together a moment. With decision and the dignity of con 
 scious innocence she said, " Good-morning, Mr. Arnold ;" 
 then taking little Minnie's hand and calling Fred she led the 
 way toward the house. It happened that the only path of
 
 130 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 egress led her by the carriage, and the manner in which its 
 occupant ignored her presence was so intolerable in its injus 
 tice that she paused, and, fixing her clear, indignant eyes 
 on the flushed, proud face before her, asked, in tones never 
 forgotten by those who heard them, ' ' Mrs. Arnold, wherein 
 have I wronged you or yours ?' ' 
 
 The lady was silent and a little embarrassed. 
 
 " I know, and you might know, " Mildred continued, " if 
 you chose, that you cannot charge me with one unwomanly 
 act, but your look and manner toward me are both un 
 womanly and unchristian. You insult me in my poverty and 
 misfortune. Without the shadow of right or reason, you 
 cruelly wound one who was wounded already ;' ' and she 
 was about to pass on. 
 
 " Mother, as you are a woman, do not let her go without 
 a word of respect and kindness," cried her son, in a hoarse, 
 stifled voice. 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn," began Mrs. Arnold in a constrained tone, 
 " I mean you no disrespect Nevertheless " 
 
 "Nevertheless!" exclaimed Arnold, wrought to frenzy. 
 ' ' Great God ! are you going to qualify that grudging sen 
 tence ?' ' He struck his hand to his forehead, reeled, and fell 
 prone upon the earth. In a moment Mildred knelt beside 
 him, and Roger saw that she loved him with her whole 
 strong, womanly soul. 
 
 " Bring water, bring brandy ; mother will give it to you," 
 she said to him in a low voice, and he dashed off to obey. 
 
 Mrs. Arnold hastily descended from the carriage and felt 
 her son's pulse with much solicitude. " He has only 
 fainted," she said. " He is apt to have such attacks when 
 overwrought. It's a part of his disease. Miss Jocelyn, you 
 see he is a reed that must be supported, not leaned upon, ' ' 
 she added, looking straight into the young girl's troubled 
 eyes. ' ' I mean you kindness as truly as I mean kindness to
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 131 
 
 him. He will soon be better. He has often been in this 
 condition ever since he was a child. With this knowledge 
 you will understand me better. Thomas" to the coach 
 man " lift him into the carriage. He will soon revive," 
 she continued to Mildred, " and at the hotel he shall have 
 the best of care. Believe me, I feel for you both, but I 
 know what is right and best." 
 
 The coachman did as he was directed, and they drove 
 rapidly away. 
 
 Mildred put her hand to her side, and then, with pale and 
 downcast face, led the wondering children toward the house. 
 She soon met Roger returning, and running like a deer. 
 
 " They have taken him away," she said briefly, without 
 looking up. " Please care for his horse and accept my 
 thanks, ' ' and then she hastened to her room and did not ap 
 pear again that day. 
 
 He complied with her request, then went back to his 
 work, and the grain fell as if the reaper were Death himself. 
 
 Mrs. Arnold's course was not so harsh and rude as it 
 seemed, and can readily be explained on the theory by which 
 she governed her feelings and actions toward her son. An 
 obscure weakness in the functions of his heart had rendered 
 him subject to fainting turns from early childhood. Phy- 
 s'cians had always cautioned against over-exertion and over- 
 excitement of any kind ; therefore he had not been sent to 
 school like the other children, or permitted to indulge in 
 the sports natural to his age. Having been constantly cau 
 tioned, curbed, and repressed, he grew into a timid, self-dis 
 trustful, irresolute man, and yet was keenly sensible of the 
 defects that separated him from other men. No one ever 
 longed for independence more earnestly than he ; few were 
 less able to achieve it. His mother, having shielded him so 
 many years from himself as well as from adverse influences 
 from without, had formed the habit of surveillance. Exag-
 
 >3* WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 gerating his weakness and dependence, his unfitness to com 
 pete with other men in active pursuits, she had almost 
 ignored his manhood. The rest of the family naturally took 
 their tone from her, regarding him as an invalid, and treating 
 him as one. Chafing with secret and increasing bitterness 
 over his misfortune and anomalous position, he grew more 
 and more silent and reserved, dwelling apart in a world 
 created from a literature that was not of the best or most 
 wholesome character. As long as he lived a quiet, monoto 
 nous life that accorded with the caution enjoined by physi 
 cians, he gave his mother little solicitude, for the woman of 
 the world, versed in all the proprieties of her station, had no 
 comprehension of the sensitive spirit that had been repressed 
 equally with his physical nature. That he should become 
 cold toward her, and cynical toward her world of wealth and 
 fashion, was to her but a proof that his character was de 
 fective also, and led to the fear that his "absurd notions" 
 might occasion trouble. His intimacy with the Jocelyns 
 threatened to justify her forebodings, and, while knowing 
 nothing of Mildred personally, she was naturally inclined to 
 the belief that she, like many others, would be glad to escape 
 poverty by allying herself to an old and wealthy family, and 
 she regarded her son as weak enough to become a ready vic 
 tim. Nevertheless he was of age, and if he should enter into a 
 formal engagement it might be no easy matter to break it or 
 escape the consequences. Therefore she determined at all 
 hazards to prevent such a consummation, and thus far had 
 succeeded. She was greatly angered that, in spite of her pre 
 cautions and injunctions, he had again met Mildred, and she 
 resolved to end the interview at once, even at the cost of 
 being thought rude and harsh, for if left to themselves that 
 summer day they might realize all her fears. At the same 
 time she proposed to manifest her disapproval so decidedly 
 that if the young woman still sought to enter her family, it
 
 A SCENE BENEATH THE HEMLOCKS. 133 
 
 would be by a sort of violence ; and she also was not un 
 mindful of the fact that, with the exception of an apparent 
 laborer and her coachman, only the parties interested were 
 the witnesses of her tactics. Therefore she had looked at 
 Mildred as coldly and haughtily as only a proud woman can, 
 with the result already narrated. Although compelled to 
 admit that the girl was not what she had imagined her to be, 
 she was none the less bent on preventing further complica 
 tions, and resolved to take her son elsewhere as soon as he 
 had sufficiently recovered. 
 
 The next morning Mildred left her seclusion, and her 
 aspect was pale and resolute, but no reference was made to 
 the events uppermost in the minds of those aware of them. 
 Even the children and Belle had been so cautioned that they 
 were reticent In the evening, however, as Roger was raking 
 the flower-beds over to prevent the weeds from starting, Mil 
 dred came out, and joining him said, a little bitterly, " Well, 
 what did your microscopic vision reveal to you yesterday 
 morning?" 
 
 ' ' A brave, proud girl, for whom I have the deepest re 
 spect, ' ' he replied, looking directly into her eyes. 
 
 "Was that all?" 
 
 " No, indeed." 
 
 " Well, what else?" she persisted, in a tone quite unlike 
 her usual accent 
 
 " I saw the merest shadow of a man and the ghost of a 
 woman who must weigh nearly two hundred. ' ' 
 
 She flushed hotly as she said, " You pride yourself on 
 your keen perceptions, but the truth is you are blind, ' ' and 
 she was turning angrily away when he answered, " Time will 
 show how blind I am, ' ' and then he went on quietly with 
 his work. 
 
 " Oh, how I detest that man !" she muttered, as she went 
 up to her favorite haunt on the hilltop looking toward the
 
 134 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 south. " Why did he, of all others, have to be present with 
 his prying eyes at the odious scene ? He must know now 
 how I feel toward Vinton Arnold, and yet he has so little 
 sense and delicacy that he expresses contempt for him to my 
 face. Brute strength may be his ideal of manhood, but it's 
 not mine ; and he knows so little of women that he thinks I 
 ought to despise one who is simply unfortunate, and through 
 no fault of his own. Poor, poor Vinton ! Brief as were the 
 moments before we were interrupted, he had time to assure 
 me that life had become a burden because of our separation, 
 and yet he said that he had no right to see me, no right to 
 send me a line, no right to add his weakness to my other 
 misfortunes. Time shall at least show one thing that I can 
 be patient and true. That proud, cold woman has no con 
 trol over me, and as long as he is faithful I shall be."
 
 THE OLD MANSION; 135 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE OLD MANSION. 
 
 MILDRED'S letter to her father brought a request that 
 she should join him at once and choose between two 
 sets of rooms, of which he had the refusal. She insisted upon 
 going, for she was eager to leave a place that had become 
 hateful to her. She greatly wished to hear of Arnold's wel 
 fare before her departure, but would not make any effort to 
 do so. 
 
 To her surprise, however, Roger handed her a note the fol 
 lowing morning. She knew the handwriting well, and 
 asked, " How do you happen to have this, Mr. Atwood ?" 
 
 " I supposed you would wish to hear "from your friend, 
 and so went up to the hotel. As soon as Mr. Arnold saw 
 me he asked me to give you that letter. ' ' 
 
 Mildred bit her lip. Was it an officious or a friendly act ? 
 She was beginning to doubt whether she had fully gauged 
 the character of this young farmer, but of one thing she was 
 instinctively certain his motive was personal, and sprung 
 from an interest in her which was now more repugnant than 
 ever. Whether this instance was an obtrusive meddling in 
 her affairs, or an act well meant, but unwarranted by their 
 relations, she could not tell. However it might be, she 
 wished the letter had come by any other hands than his. 
 
 She gravely thanked him, and added, " Mr. Atwood, 
 please do not feel called upon to do anything further for me 
 unless requested."
 
 136 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 He grew pale and his lips tightened, for her words and 
 manner hurt him. His act had been in truth very generous 
 and self-effacing, but he merely bowed in seeming acquies 
 cence, and turned away. 
 
 Arnold's letter ran as follows : 
 
 1 ' The memory of that scene yesterday will oppress me 
 forever. Nothing could have happened that would more 
 clearly convince you that I am unworthy of your thought. 
 And yet it will be a life-long agony to know that I am un 
 worthy. When I tell you that I love and honor you above 
 all other women it is but a poor compensation, I fear, for all 
 that I have made you surfer. My mother has kindly (?) in 
 formed me that she told you how feeble I am, and I proved 
 her words true. I feel that the best service I can render you 
 is to say, Forget me wholly ; and yet you can never know 
 what such words cost me. / shall never forget, unless death 
 is forgetting. If I had the strength to be of any help to you 
 at all, I would break away at once and take the consequences ; 
 but I have been an invalid all my life, and why I still con 
 tinue to live I scarcely know. If, however, there should 
 ever be a time when one so weak as I am can aid you, give 
 me this one shadowy hope that you will come to me. 
 
 " VINTON ARNOLD." 
 
 This was Mildred's reply : 
 
 " It is not in my nature to forget, therefore I cannot It 
 is not my wish to forget, therefore I will not. You will find 
 
 me ever the same. 
 
 " MILDRED JOCELYN." 
 
 Roger would have taken her reply to the hotel that very 
 night, so great was her power over him, but for his sake, as 
 well as her own, she wished to teach him once for all that 
 their ways were apart She dreaded from what he had said
 
 THE OLD MANSION; 137 
 
 that he would follow her to the city and renew the unwelcome 
 association of his life with hers. Therefore she engaged 
 heavy, blundering Jotham to deliver the note, giving him a 
 dollar from her slender purse as a reward. He lost the note 
 where it was never found, and stolidly concealed the fact lest 
 he should lose the dollar. The little characteristic missive fell 
 to the earth somewhere like a seed that drops into an un 
 kindly soil and perishes. Roger only knew that stupid 
 Jotham had been preferred as her messenger. She made 
 no secret of the fact, but gave the note to the laborer 
 when he came in to his nooning the following day. 
 She knew Roger was watching her from the front porch, 
 and as she turned toward him she saw she had wounded him 
 so deeply that she had some compunctions ; but he avoid 
 ed meeting her, nor did she find a chance to speak to 
 him again. When, an hour later, she was ready to depart 
 with Mr. Atwood for the distant landing, Roger was not 
 to be found. Her conscience smote her a little, but she 
 felt that it would be the best for him in the future, and 
 would probably end his nonsense about leaving home and 
 winning fame out in the world. She had a warm, genuine 
 good-will for Mrs. Atwood and Susan, and even for poor, 
 grumbling Mr. Atwood, at whose meagre, shrivelled life she 
 often wondered ; and it would be a source of much pain to 
 her if she became even the blameless cause of Roger's leaving 
 home in the absurd hope of eventually becoming great and 
 rich, and then appearing to her in her poverty, like a prince 
 in fairy lore. " Nothing but the most vigorous snubbing 
 will bring him to his senses," she thought, and she now 
 believed that he would soon subside into his old life, and be 
 none the worse for the summer's episode. Therefore, after 
 embracing her mother again and again in her room, she bade 
 Mrs. Atwood and Susan good-by very kindly, and they saw 
 her depart with genuine regret For Roger there was noth-
 
 138 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ing more than the quiet remark to Mrs. Atwood, " Please 
 say good-by for me to your son. ' ' 
 
 Belle and the children accompanied her to the landing, 
 and were in great glee over the long drive. Mildred's spirits 
 rose also. She had learned most emphatically that she was 
 not dead to her lover, and she thought her words, brief as 
 they were, would cheer and sustain him and suggest hope for 
 the future. Although she was a little sorry for Roger, she 
 was glad to think that his dark, searching eyes would no 
 longer follow her, nor she be compelled from day to day to 
 recognize a curbed but ever-present and unwelcome regard. 
 His feeling toward her seemed like something pent up, yet 
 growing, and she was always fearing it might burst forth. In 
 his mastery of the horse he had shown himself so strong and 
 fearless that, not sure of his self-restraint, she dreaded lest in 
 some unguarded moment he might vehemently plead for her 
 love. The very thought of this made her shudder and shrink, 
 and the belief that she would probably never see him again 
 gave decided relief. 
 
 Chief of all, she was glad that her weary waiting and un 
 certainty were over. She was now on her way to seek in 
 dependence and a home. However humble the latter, it 
 would be a place from which could be excluded all strange 
 and prying looks. When together and alone again, their 
 sorrows and weaknesses could be hidden or seen only with 
 the eyes of love. 
 
 The ten days or more that had elapsed since Mr. Jocelyn's 
 departure had made him doubtful whether he could hide his 
 weakness or overcome it very readily. He believed he was 
 gaining ground since he was able to reduce the amount of 
 morphia taken, but in order to keep up he had to employ 
 the stimulant more frequently. By this method he hoped 
 never so to lose self-control as to excite suspicion, and also 
 gradually to wean himself from the drug altogether. Of the
 
 THE OLD MANSION. 139 
 
 two he would rather meet Mildred than his wife ; the latter 
 must be kept in ignorance, since to destroy her absolute trust 
 was to be destroyed. Mildred would more quickly suspect 
 his fault than would her mother, and if he could hide his 
 failing from her he surely could from his wife, until complete 
 mastery left nothing to be concealed. That day of liberty 
 always seemed but a little in advance. He surely had the 
 will and the strength to give up a mere drug. He who had 
 led charges amid the smoke and thunder of a hundred can 
 non, and had warded off sabre-thrusts from muscular, reso 
 lute hands, was not going to be pricked to death by a little 
 syringe in his own hand. His very thraldom to the habit 
 seemed an improbable, grotesque dream, which some morn 
 ing would dissipate, but as a matter of experience each morn 
 ing brought such a profound sinking and " goneness" that 
 his will-power shrivelled like a paper barricade before the 
 scorching intensity of his desire. After the stimulant began 
 its work, however, all things seemed possible, and nothing 
 more so than his power to abandon the drug when he should 
 fully decide upon the act. 
 
 On the morning of Mildred's arrival, having lifted himself 
 out of his chronic dejection by the lever of opium, he went 
 to meet her with the genuine gladness of a proud, loving 
 father asserting itself like a ray of June light struggling 
 through noxious vapors. She was delighted to find him ap 
 parently so well. His walk and the heat had brought color 
 to his face, the drug had bestowed animation and confidence, 
 while his heart gave an honest, loving welcome without the 
 aid of any stimulant. They rode up-town together as happily 
 and hopefully as if the nearly empty car were their own car 
 riage, and they were seeking a home in Fifth Avenue instead 
 of a tenement-house ; but the hope and happiness of one 
 was based on youth, love, faith, courage, and inexperience, 
 and of the other on a lurid cloud that would darken steadily
 
 140 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 except as renewed gleams were shot through it by a light that 
 was infernal. Any kindly man or woman would have smiled 
 appreciatively to see the handsome father and beautiful daugh 
 ter apparently as absorbed in each other's plans and interests 
 as a young couple seeking the home in which their future life 
 would centre. Who would dream that on this sunny morn 
 ing, and in a prosaic street-car, the actors of a sad, sad tragedy 
 were on their way to its unsuspected scenes ? Who would 
 dream that Mildred and her father, of all others, were the 
 actors ? 
 
 " Millie," said Mr. Jocelyn, " I fear the place to which 
 I shall at first take you may shock you a little. It's an old 
 Revolutionary mansion, gray and rather dilapidated, but it 
 reminded me of some of our residences in the South ; and, 
 although perhaps no better perhaps not so good it is still 
 quite unlike the stereotyped tenement-house abomination 
 prevailing in this city. This ancient abode of colonial wealth 
 took my fancy. It suggested our own changed fortunes by 
 its fall to its present uses. And yet the carving around and 
 above the doors and windows, much of which still remains, 
 and the lofty ceilings all remind one of past better days that 
 can never return to the poor house, but which we must bring 
 back as soon as possible. I shall never be content or happy, 
 Millie, until I have placed my dear ones in the sphere to 
 which they really belong ; but for the present I do not see 
 how we can pay rent for anything much better than rooms 
 in the old mansion. As far as I can learn, the people who 
 live in it are poor, but quiet and respectable. 
 
 Her father's opium-tinged description caught Mildred's 
 fancy also, but when she saw the building her heart sank at 
 the prospect To her a tenement-house was as yet a vague, 
 untested reality, and the one before her was indeed old and 
 dilapidated, gray and haggard with more than a century's age. 
 
 The mansion having been built to face the river, its front
 
 THE OLD MANSION. 141 
 
 Was not upon the street, but toward the west. Around its 
 base the mortar was crumbling away, revealing its mingled 
 brick and stone foundation. The hip-roof of weather-beaten 
 shingles still remained, and was surmounted by a wide-railed 
 and wooden platform used by the occupants of the dwelling 
 for the drying of clothes, etc. 
 
 " It makes me think of an old, dying, moss-draped white 
 oak standing in the midst of trees of younger and different 
 growth," said Mr. Jocelyn, as he and Mildred scanned the 
 gable-end of the house. 
 
 Then they entered by two or three stone steps a narrow 
 passage, ascended a forlorn wooden stairway, covered overhead 
 by a few boards, nailed lengthwise, and so reached a small 
 landing, where once had been a stately porch or wide veranda, 
 looking no doubt over a broad sweep of lawn and the shining 
 river. The high-arched doorway was still intact, with elabo 
 rately carved but now defaced wood-work, which, rising from 
 the sill on either side, was continued in various old-fashioned 
 designs until it culminated over a large square window in the 
 second story. Generations had watched the sunsets from 
 that window, but now high brick walls threw it in shadow 
 much of the day. 
 
 A quaint brass knocker which gentlemen long since 
 dust had approached wearing laced three-cornered hats, 
 velvet short-clothes, and silver buckles, and upon which 
 they had rapped announcement of their social claims, still 
 hung on the rest from which they had lifted it. It was not 
 often used at present, for people entered without knocking, 
 and the wide hall within was in a sense but a continuation of 
 the street ; also the winding stairway, with its ancient rail, 
 which started out on one side and wound up to another 
 square hallway. To each of these open spaces the several 
 families had equal rights. 
 
 The lower hall had originally extended through the whole
 
 142 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 depth of the building to a rear doorway, equally old-fashioned 
 but less elaborately ornamented, but now a partition crossed 
 the raised circle on the ceiling from which had once hung an 
 ancient candelabrum. Upon each hallway opened four suites 
 of two rooms each, and thus the old mansion usually sheltered 
 twelve families instead of one. The doors were high, and 
 surmounted by quaint and worm-eaten carved work. 
 
 These halls seemed very dark and close to Mildred, who 
 had just come out of the sunlight and from the country, but 
 they were cool and spacious. They were shown by the jani 
 tor to a room over twenty feet square on the second story, 
 whose former occupants had left the souvenir of unlimited 
 dirt. " They was dissipated, and we don't let sich stay in 
 the buildin'," said the man. " That's one thing in favor of 
 the place, papa," poor Mildred remarked, and at the moment 
 it seemed to her about the only thing, for the old house was 
 evidently going down hill so fast that it seemed to her as if it 
 might carry its occupants with it Still, on further inspec 
 tion, the room was found to be so large and airy and the 
 ceiling so high that it might be made the abode of health and 
 romfort. Opening into the large apartment was another about 
 eight feet by twelve, and this was all. 
 
 Mildred drew a long breath. Could the whole domestic 
 life of the family be carried on in those two rooms ? " I never 
 realized how thousands of people live," she sighed. 
 
 " It will only be for a little while, Millie," whispered her 
 father. 
 
 The young girl shrank and shivered even in the summer 
 morning at the ordeal of crowded life, with only intervening 
 doorways and thin partitions between them and all sorts of 
 unknown neighbors. 
 
 ' ' Suppose, papa, we look at the other rooms of which you 
 have the refusal," she faltered. 
 
 Even in his false buoyancy he could not suppress a sigh as
 
 THE OLD MANSION. 143 
 
 he saw that Mildred, in spite of her determination to make 
 the best of everything, had not imagined what a tenement- 
 house was. " We will be back in an hour or more," he 
 whispered to the janitor, for he believed the other rooms 
 would appear still more repulsive. 
 
 And so they did, for when Mildred had climbed up three 
 stairways in a five-story, narrow house, which even at that 
 hour was filled with a babel of sounds, the old mansion 
 seemed a refuge, and when she had glanced around the nar 
 row room and two dark closets of bedrooms, she shuddered 
 and said, " Papa, can we really afford nothing better?" 
 
 " Honestly, Millie, we cannot for the present. My income 
 is exceedingly small, although it will soon be increased, no 
 doubt. But if we pay too much for rooms we shall have 
 nothing to live upon while waiting for better times. These 
 rooms are fourteen dollars a month. Those in the old man 
 sion are only eight, and the two rooms there give more 
 chance for comfort than do these three. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes," cried Mildred, " I could not live here 
 at all. Let us go back. " 
 
 While returning, her father showed her apartments in 
 other tenements for which rents of ten to sixteen dollars were 
 charged, and she saw that she would not obtain any more in 
 space and light than for half the money in the old house, 
 which had been built when that part of the island was open 
 country. 
 
 " Forgive me, papa," she said, smiling, " that I shivered 
 a little at the first plunge. We will go to the old house and 
 stay there until we can do better. It was once evidently a 
 beautiful home, and I believe that within it we can make a 
 happy home, if we will. These other tenements were never 
 homes, and I don't see how they ever could be. They are 
 angular, patent, human packing-boxes, which mock at the 
 very idea of home coziness and privacy. They were .never
 
 144 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 built for homes, they were built to rent. In the old house 
 I noticed that a blank wall near will prevent people staring 
 into our windows, and the space has not been so cut up but 
 that we can keep ourselves somewhat secluded." 
 
 Next to a quiet way of earning money, Mildred coveted 
 seclusion beyond everything else. There was one deep hope 
 that fed her life. Her father would work his way up into 
 affluence, and she again could welcome Vinton Arnold to 
 her own parlor. Happiness would bring him better health, 
 and the time would come when he could choose and act as 
 his heart dictated. With woman's pathetic fortitude and 
 patience she would hope and wait for that day. But not for 
 the world must his proud mother know to what straits they 
 were driven, and she meant that the old house should be 
 come a hiding-place as well as a home. 
 
 Therefore the rooms in the old mansion were taken. A 
 stout, cheery English woman, who with her plump, red 
 arms was fighting life's battle for herself and a brood of little 
 ones, was engaged to clean up and prepare for the furniture. 
 Mildred was eager to get settled, and her father, having 
 ordered such household goods as they required to be sent 
 from their place of storage the following day, repaired to his 
 place of business. 
 
 " Now, miss," said sensible Mrs. Wheaton, " I don't vant 
 to do hany more than yer vants done, but hif I was you I' d 
 give hall these 'ere vails a coat hof lime. Vitevash is 'ole- 
 some, yer know, and sweetens heverything ; hit' 11 kind o' 
 take haway the nasty taste those drunken people left." 
 
 " Please whitewash, then, and use plenty of lime. If you 
 can sweeten these rooms, do so by all means, but I fear that 
 result is beyond your brush or any other." 
 
 "You've seen better days, miss, and I 'ave meself ; but 
 yer mustn't be down'arted, yer know. See 'ow the sunshine 
 comes in, and ven hit falls hon a carpet, a little furniture, and
 
 THE OLD MANSION. 145 
 
 yer hown people, these 'ere rooms vill soon grow 'omelike, 
 and yer' 11 come back to ' em haf ter yer day' s vork' s hover 
 gladly henough. I s'pose yer' 11 vork, since you've come 
 hamong people who must vork hearly and late." 
 " Yes, indeed, we'll work that is all we ask for." 
 " And hit's time I vas habout mine hinstead hof gossip 
 ing 'ere. Yer' 11 soon see 'ow spick and span I'll make 
 hevery thing. ' ' 
 
 With a dispatch, deftness, and strength that to Mildred 
 seemed wonderful, she bought the lime, made the wash, and 
 soon dark stains and smoky patches of wall and ceiling grew 
 white under her strong, sweeping strokes. It was not in the 
 girl's nature, nor in accordance with her present scheme 
 of life, to be an idle spectator, and from her travelling-bag 
 she soon transformed herself into as charming a house-cleaner 
 as ever waged war against that chief enemy of life and health 
 dirt Her round, white arms, bared almost to the shoul 
 der, seemed designed as a sculptor's model rather than to 
 wield the brush with which she scoured the paint and wood 
 work ; but she thought not of sculpture except in the remote 
 and figurative way of querying, with mind far absent from 
 her work, how best she could carve their humble fortunes out 
 of the unpromising material of the present and the near 
 future.
 
 146 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 "WELCOME HOME." 
 
 MILDRED felt that she had become a working-woman 
 in very truth as she cleaned the dingy closets, vin 
 dictively prying into corners and crevices that had been 
 unmolested by generations of tenants, and the rich color pro 
 duced by summer heat and unwonted exertion deepened at 
 the thought, ' ' What would Vinton Arnold, what would his 
 mother think if they saw me now ? The latter would un 
 doubtedly remark," she murmured, in bitterness of spirit, 
 " that I had at last found my true sphere, and was engaged in 
 befitting tasks ; but should I lose in his eyes ?' ' 
 
 Indeed she would not, either in his eyes or in those of any 
 other man capable of appreciating womanly grace. Genuine 
 beauty is a rare and wonderful gift, and, like genius, tri 
 umphs over adverse circumstances, and is often enhanced by 
 them. Even prosaic Mrs. Wheaton was compelled to pause 
 from time to time to admire the slender, supple form whose 
 perfect outlines were revealed by the stooping, twisting, and 
 reaching required by the nature of the labor. But the vary 
 ing expressions of her face, revealing a mind as active as the 
 busy hands, were a richer study. The impact of her brush 
 was vigorous, and with looks of aversion and disgust she 
 would cleanse away the grimy stains as if they were an es 
 sential part of the moral as well as gross material life of the 
 former occupants. To a refined nature association forms no 
 slight element in the constitution of a home ; and horrible
 
 "WELCOME HOME" 147 
 
 conjectures concerning repulsive indications of the vulgar 
 people who once kennelled where others would live decently 
 and purely are among the manifold miseries of tenement 
 life. In spite of all her will-power, Mildred shuddered, and 
 shrank from even this remote contact with a phase of human 
 ity peculiarly revolting to her, and the protest of her innate 
 delicacy would often appear strongly upon her face. 
 
 " The worst of it is," she muttered, " that soap and water 
 cannot blot out thoughts of the people who were here before 
 us." 
 
 But thoughts of other people, some of whom were very 
 dear to her, brought varying expression?, and once she 
 smiled and said to herself, " Roger Atwood now thinks, no 
 doubt, that in me he has seen another ' ghost of a woman/ 
 weighing a little less than ' two hundred. ' Of all my little 
 affairs of that nature, his was the most preposterous and 
 absurd. That one human being should expect and seek from 
 knother what is so impossible to give produces ^. certain half- 
 humorous irritation that is indescribable." 
 
 Stout Mrs. Wheaton' s mind and fancy were not so busy as 
 her hands, and when twelve o'clock came she knew the hour, 
 although carrying no watch. She had interrupted Mildred's 
 musings from time to time, but had received rather absent 
 replies, for the actual inception of a life of toil occasioned 
 many thoughts. 
 
 When, however, the practical woman remarked, "I've a 
 hinside 'int that hit's time we took a bite together," Mildred 
 awakened to an honest and hungry approval of the suggestion. 
 
 " I don't like to intrude upon you, Mrs. Wheaton," she 
 said. " Isn't there some place near where I can go ?" 
 
 " Hindeed there his right down to my room, hif ye' re 
 not habove my company. I can brew yer has good a cup 
 o' tea has hany cook in the land, and ve' 11 find somethin' 
 nourishin' to go vith hit."
 
 148 V/ITJTOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Mrs. Wheaton, you are a genuine friend. I'm so glad 
 you were here and willing to help me, for you make me feel 
 safer and more hopeful. You seem brave and not afraid of 
 being poor, and I want to learn your courage. So far from 
 being above your company, I am very grateful for it, and I 
 shall try to repay your kindness with like neighborly return 
 when I can ; but when it comes to actual expense you must 
 let me pay my way. How is it you are so brave and cheery 
 when, as you say, you are alone with several children to sup 
 port ?' ' 
 
 "I'll tell yer vhile ve heat hour dinner; so lock the 
 door and come vith me." 
 
 Mrs. Wheaton' s room was plain, indeed, but neat and 
 homelike. A variegated and much-patched carpet covered 
 part of the floor, which was bare around the ample cooking- 
 stove, whereon a wholesome dinner soon smoked with appe 
 tizing odors. Her daughter, a young girl about twelve 
 years of age, assisted in the preparations, and then went to 
 call the other children, who were playing on the side 
 walk. 
 
 " 'Ow is it I'm so brave and cheery?" Mrs. Wheaton at 
 last answered with a sunshiny smile. " I've a stout pair hof 
 harms, I've a stout body, and I've a downright belief that 
 the Lord means veil by me and mine. I'm tryin' to do my 
 best, and hit's is biziness to take care hof the rest. Hand 
 'E 'as so far. I've been a bit 'ungry meself now and 
 then, but the children halways 'ad enough. So I vork and 
 trust and lose no time and strength ha-vorrying. Things' 11 
 all come hout right some day ; and I've no time to be doin' 
 the Lord's vork hin carryin' the burden hon my shoulders, 
 hif they are broad. 'Ere's the children ; now sit right down 
 with hus, andvelcome. Since ve' re neighbors ve' 11 be neigh 
 borly and friendly like ; and before yer know hit, yer' 11 be 
 snug and comfortable hin your hown rooms, and yer can be
 
 "WELCOME HOME." 149 
 
 jist as 'appy bin 'em has hever yer vas bin yer life. Bein' poor 
 and 'avmg to vork hain't the vorst troubles in the vorld." 
 
 The good woman's stout, cheery spirit and homely faith 
 were just the tonics that Mildred needed, and they were all the 
 more effective because combined with the exhilarating tea and 
 wholesome food. Therefore instead of a weary and depress 
 ing day, in which body and spirit acted and reacted on each 
 other until the evening brought shadows deeper than the 
 night, her courage and cheerfulness grew with the hours of 
 sustained and healthful toil, and when her father appeared at 
 six o'clock her smile warmed his heart. At the cost of no 
 slight effort he had so reduced his doses of morphia that 
 neither she nor any one could have detected anything unnat 
 ural in his manner. He praised their work unstintedly, and 
 thanked Mrs. Wheaton for her kindness with such warm 
 Southern frankness that her eyes grew moist with gratification. 
 Indeed the rooms had grown so clean and wholesome that 
 Mr. Jocelyn said that they looked homelike already. Mrs. 
 Wheaton assured Mildred that if she would be content, she 
 could be made quite comfortable on a lounge in her large 
 living-room, and the young girl won her heart completely by 
 saying that she would rather stay with her than go to the Fifth 
 Avenue Hotel. Her words were sincere, for in accordance 
 with her nature her heart was already drawn toward the place 
 which gave even promise of a home, and the hearty kindness 
 received there made her shrink from the strange, indifferent 
 world without. 
 
 Her father asked her to resume her travelling dress, and 
 then by a street-car they soon reached a quiet restaurant near 
 Central Park, from which the outlook was upon trees and 
 shrubbery. The people of New York are singularly fortunate 
 in their ability to reach, at slight expense of money and time, 
 many places where the air is pure, and the sense of beauty 
 can find abundant gratification. Mildred felt that only
 
 150 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 extreme poverty could rob them in summer of many simple 
 yet genuine pleasures. When, after their frugal supper, she 
 and her father strolled through a path winding around a min 
 iature lake on which swans were floating, she believed that 
 one of her chief fears might be unfounded. Her love of 
 beauty need not be stifled, since there was so much, even in 
 the crowded town, which could be seen without cost. 
 
 ' ' Papa, ' ' she said, ' ' our lives will not be meagre and color 
 less unless we make them so. Every tree and shrub indeed 
 every leaf upon them and every ripple on the water seems 
 beautiful to me this evening. I do not fear working hard if 
 we can often have these inexpensive pleasures. The thing 
 in poverty that has most troubled me was the fear that one's 
 nature might become blunted, callous, and unresponsive. A 
 starved soul and heart seem to me infinitely worse than a 
 starved body. Thank God, this beautiful place is as free to 
 us now as ever, and I think we epjoy it more than many of 
 those people in yonder carriages. Then at the cost of a few 
 pennies we can get many a breezy outlook, and fill our lungs 
 with fresh air on the ferry-boats. So don't let us be down 
 hearted, papa, and mope while we are waiting for better 
 days. Each day may bring us something that we can enjoy 
 with honest zest ' ' 
 
 ' ' God bless you, Millie, ' ' replied her father. ' ' We' 11 try 
 to do just as you suggest." Nevertheless he sighed deeply. 
 She was free ; he was a slave. In the depths of the placid 
 lake the graceful swans, the pretty wooded shores, were faith 
 fully reflected. In Mildred's clear blue eyes the truth of her 
 words, the goodness and sincerity of her heart, were revealed 
 with equal certainty. His eyes were downcast and fixed on 
 an abyss which no soul has ever fathomed. 
 
 " Great God !" he murmured, " I must escape ; I shall 
 I will escape ;" but while Mildred stepped into a florist's 
 shop to purchase a blooming plant for Mrs. Wheaton, he
 
 "WELCOME HOME." 151 
 
 furtively took from his pocket a small paper of white-looking 
 powder just the amount which experience had taught him 
 he could take and not betray himself. As a result she was 
 delighted to find him genial and wakeful until they parted 
 rather late in the old mansion wherein, she jestingly said, she 
 proposed to build their nest, like a barn-swallow, the follow 
 ing day. 
 
 After a brief consultation with Mrs. Wheaton the next 
 morning Mildred told her father to send for the rest of the 
 family at once, and that she would be ready for them. The 
 household goods arrived promptly from their place of storage, 
 and she was positively happy while transforming the bare 
 rooms into a home that every hour grew more inviting. 
 They had retained, when giving up their house in the spring, 
 more furniture than was sufficient for the limited space they 
 would now occupy, and Mildred had enough material and 
 taste to banish the impression of poverty almost wholly from 
 their two rooms. She had the good sense, also, to make the 
 question of appearances always secondary to that of comfort, 
 and rigorously excluded what was bulky and unnecessary. 
 ' ' I don' t like crowded rooms, ' ' she said, ' ' and mamma 
 must have just as little to care for and tax her strength as 
 possible." One side of the large room was partitioned off as 
 a sleeping apartment for her father, mother, and the two chil 
 dren, and was made private by curtains of dark, inexpensive 
 material. The remainder and larger part facing the east was 
 to be kitchen, dining and living room. Mrs. Wheaton did 
 the heavy work, and looked on in delighted wonder as the 
 young girl, with a gift peculiarly her own, gave an air of 
 grace and homelike coziness to every part. Hers was a true 
 woman's touch in woman's undisputed realm, and her father, 
 with strange alternations of sighs and smiles, assisted her after 
 his return from business. Gas had never been introduced in 
 the old house, and so two pretty shaded lamps were bought
 
 154 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 never to take stimulants at all. They had better die than to 
 begin to use them habitually, and even to touch them is 
 hazardous. There is slumbering in their natures a predispo 
 sition toward their excessive use which a slight indulgence 
 may kindle into a consuming, clamorous desire. Opium 
 had apparently found something peculiarly congenial in Mr. 
 Jocelyn's temperament and constitution, and at first it had 
 rewarded him with experiences more delightful than most of 
 its votaries enjoy. But it is not very long content to remain 
 a servant, and in many instances very speedily becomes the 
 most terrible of masters. He had already reached such an 
 advanced stage of dependence upon it that its withdrawal 
 would now leave him weak, helpless, and almost distracted 
 for a time. It would probably cost him his situation ; his 
 weakness would be revealed to his family and to the world, 
 and the knowledge of it might prevent his obtaining employ 
 ment elsewhere ; therefore he felt that he must hide the vice 
 and fight it to its death in absolute secrecy. Under the ter 
 rible necromancy of his sin the wife from whom he had 
 scarcely concealed a thought in preceding years was the one 
 whom he most feared. As yet the habit was a sin, because 
 he had the power to overcome it if he would simply resolve to 
 do right regardless of the consequences ; and these would be 
 slight indeed compared with the results of further indulgence. 
 He had better lose his situation a hundred times ; he had 
 better see his family faint from hunger for weeks together, 
 should such an ordeal be an essential part of his struggle for 
 freedom, for only by such an unfaltering effort could he re 
 gain the solid ground on which enduring happiness and pros 
 perity could be built. As it was, he was rapidly approaching 
 a point where his habit would become a terrible and uncon 
 trollable disease, for which he would still be morally re 
 sponsible a responsibility, however, in which, before the 
 bar of true justice, the physician who first gave the drug with-
 
 "WELCOME HOME." 155 
 
 out adequate caution would deeply share. He felt his dan 
 ger as he sat cowering over the dying fire ; even with its 
 warmth added to that of the summer night he shivered at 
 his peril, but he did not appreciate it in any proper sense. 
 He resolved again, as he often had before, that each day 
 should witness increasing progress, then feeling that he musl 
 sleep he bared his arm and sent enough of Magendie's solu 
 tion into his system to produce such rest as opium bestows. 
 
 To her surprise Mildred found the awakening of her father 
 a difficult task the following morning. The boat on which 
 his wife and children were to arrive was probably already at 
 the wharf, and she had thought he would be up with the sun 
 to meet them, but he seemed oppressed with an untimely 
 stupor. When at last he appeared he explained that the fire 
 on the hearth had induced a fit of brooding over the past and 
 future, and that he had sat up late. 
 
 " Here's a cup of coffee, papa," she said briskly, " and 
 it will wake you up. I' 11 have breakfast ready for you all by 
 the time you can return, and I'm so eager to see mamma 
 that I could fly to her. ' ' 
 
 Mortified that he should even appear dilatory at such a 
 time, he hastened away, but he was far beyond such a mild 
 stimulant as coffee. Even now, when events were occurring 
 which would naturally sustain from their deep personal in 
 terest, he found himself reduced to an almost complete de 
 pendence on an unnatural support. Before sleeping he had 
 appealed to his dread master, and his first waking moments 
 brought a renewed act of homage. Opium was becoming 
 his god, his religion. Already it stood between him and his 
 wife and children. It was steadily undermining his charac 
 ter, and if not abandoned would soon leave but the hollow 
 semblance of a man. 
 
 As the steamboat arrived in the night, Mrs. Jocelyn had no 
 sense of disappointment at not being met, and through Mil-
 
 156 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 dred's persistency it was still early when her husband ar> 
 peared. His greeting was so affectionate, and he appeared 
 so well after his hasty walk, that the old glad, hopeful look 
 came into her eyes. To Belle and the children, coming 
 back to the city was like coming home as in former years, 
 only a little earlier. The farm had grown to be somewhat 
 of an old story, and Belle had long since voted it dull. 
 
 " Well, Nan, we've come down to two rooms in very 
 truth, and in an old, old house, too, that will remind you of 
 some of the oldest in the South, ' ' and he drew such a humor 
 ous and forlorn picture of their future abode that his wife felt 
 that he had indeed taken her at her word, and that they would 
 scarcely have a place to lay their heads, much less to live in 
 any proper sense ; and when she stopped before the quaint 
 and decrepit house without any front door ; when she fol 
 lowed her husband up the forlorn stairway to what seemed 
 a side entrance with its most dismal outlook, she believed 
 that the time for fortitude had come, in bitter truth. The 
 hall was dark to her sun-blinded eyes, as it had been to Mil 
 dred's, yet not so dark but that she saw doors open and felt 
 herself scanned with an unblushing curiosity by slattern-look 
 ing women, her near neighbors, and the thought that they 
 were so very near made her shiver. As for Belle, she did 
 not take pains to hide her disgust. With a sinking heart and 
 faltering courage the poor gentlewoman mounted the winding 
 stairs, but before she reached the top there was a rush from 
 an open doorway, and Mildred clasped her in close embrace. 
 
 " Welcome home !" she cried, in her clear, sweet, girlish 
 voice. 
 
 " Home, Millie ! what a mockery that word is in this 
 strange, strange place !" she half whispered, half sobbed in 
 her daughter's ear. 
 
 " Courage, mamma. We promised papa we'd ask noth 
 ing better than he could afford," Mildred murmured.
 
 "WELCOME HOME." 157 
 
 '* Don't let him see tears he has already put Fred down 
 and is turning to welcome you to the best home he can 
 offer." 
 
 Had the rooms been cells only, with but a pallet of straw 
 upon the floors, Mrs. Jocelyn would have responded to that 
 appeal, and she stepped forward resolved to smile and appear 
 pleased with everything, no matter how stifled she might feel 
 for want of space, air, and light 
 
 But when she crossed the threshold into the spacious, sun- 
 lighted room, and looked up at the high ceiling and across 
 its wide area ; when she had glanced around and seen on 
 every side the results of the strong spells laid upon stout Mrs. 
 Wheaton by Mildred's domestic magic, and the dainty 
 touches with which the solid work had been supplemented, 
 her face lighted up with a sweet surprise. 
 
 " Oh, oh, how much better this is than you led me to 
 expect ! Is all this really ours ? Can we afford so large a 
 room ? Here are the dear old things, too, with which I first 
 went to housekeeping. " Then stepping to her husband's side 
 she put her arm around his neck as she looked into his eyes 
 and said, ' ' Martin, this is home. Thank God, it is home 
 like after all. With you and the children around me I can 
 be more than content I can be very happy in this place. I 
 feared that we might be too crowded, and that the children 
 might suffer." 
 
 " Of course you didn't think of yourself, Nan. Millie's 
 the good fairy to thank for all this. The way she and an 
 other female divinity have conjured in these rooms the last 
 three days is a matter wholly beyond the masculine mind." 
 
 ' ' Father did a great deal, too, and did it much better than 
 you could expect from a man. But, come, I'm mistress of 
 this small fraction of the venerable mansion till after break 
 fast, and then, mamma, I' 11 put the baton of rule in your 
 hands. I've burned my fingers and spoiled my complexion
 
 158 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 over the stove, and I don't intend that a cold breakfast shall 
 be the result. ' ' 
 
 " Millie," cried Belle, rushing out of the second room, 
 which she had inspected in her lightning-like way before 
 greeting her sister, ' ' our room is lovely. You are a gem, 
 an onyx, a fickle wild rose. It's all splendid a perpetual 
 picnic place, to which we' 11 bring our own provisions and 
 cook 'em our own way. No boss biddies in this establish 
 ment. It's ever so much better than I expected after you 
 once get here ; but as the hymn goes, ' How dark and dismal 
 is the way ! ' 
 
 It was with difficulty that the children, wild over the nov 
 elty of it all, could be settled quietly at the table. It was 
 the family's first rneal in a tenement-house. The father's 
 eyes grew moist as he looked around his board and said, deep 
 in his heart, ' ' Never did a sweeter, fairer group grace a table 
 in this house, although it has stood more than a century. If 
 for their sakes I cannot be a man ' ' 
 
 " Martin," began his wife, her delicate features flushing a 
 little, ' ' before we partake of this our first meal I want you 
 all to join me in your hearts while I say from the depths of 
 mine, God bless our home." 
 
 An hour later, as he went down-town, Mr. Jocelyn finished 
 his sentence. ' ' If for the sake of such a wife and such chil 
 dren I cannot stop, I' m damned. ' '
 
 BELLE AND MILDRED. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BELLE AND MILDRED. 
 
 THE cosmopolitan bachelor living in apartments knows 
 far more of Sanskrit than of a domestic woman's feel 
 ings as she explores the place she must call her home. It 
 may be a palace or it may be but two rooms in a decaying 
 tenement, but the same wistful, intent look will reveal one of 
 the deepest needs of her nature. Eve wept not so much for 
 the loss of Eden as for the loss of home the familiar place 
 whose homeliest objects had become dear from association. 
 The restless woman who has no home-hunger, no strong 
 instinct to make a place which shall be a refuge for herself 
 and those she loves, is not the woman God created. She is 
 the product of a sinister evolution ; she is akin to the birds 
 that will not build nests, but take possession of those already 
 constructed, ousting the rightful occupants. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred were unperverted ; they were 
 womanly in every fibre, and the interest with which they 
 planned, consulted, and dwelt upon each detail of their small 
 household economy is beyond my power to interpret. They 
 could have made the stateliest mansion in the city homelike ; 
 they did impart to their two poor rooms the essential ele 
 ments of a home. It was a place which no one could enter 
 without involuntary respect for the occupants, although aware 
 of nothing concerning them except their poverty. 
 
 " Mrs. Atwood and Susan actually cried when we came to
 
 160 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 go," Mrs. Jocelyn remarked as they were all busy together, 
 " and even old Mr. Atwood was wonderfully good for him. 
 He and Roger put a great many harvest apples and vegeta 
 bles in a large box, and Mrs. Atwood added a jar of her nice 
 butter, some eggs, and a pair of chickens. I told them that 
 we must begin life again in a very humble way, and they just 
 overflowed with sympathy and kindness, and I could scarcely 
 induce them to take any money for the last week we were 
 there. It was funny to see old Mr. Atwood : he wanted the 
 money dreadfully any one could see that, for a dollar is dear 
 to his heart but he also wanted to be generous like his 
 wife, and to show his strong good-will. They sent heaps of 
 love to you, Millie, and cordially invited us to visit them 
 next summer ; they also offered to board us again for just as 
 little as they could afford. Even Jotham appeared to have 
 something on his mind, for he was as helpful as an elephant, 
 and stood around, and stood around, but at last went off 
 muttering to himself." 
 
 " Millie," said Belle indignantly, " I think you treated 
 Roger shamefully. After we returned from seeing you off, 
 mamma and I went mooning up to that hill of yours looking 
 toward the south, because you and papa were in that direc 
 tion. Suddenly we came upon Roger sitting there with his 
 face buried in his hands. ' Are you ill ? ' mamma asked, as 
 if his trouble might have been a stomach-ache. He started 
 up and looked white in the moonlight. ' She was cruel, ' he 
 said passionately ; ' I only asked for friendship. I would 
 have given my life for her, but she treated Jotham better than 
 she did me, and she thinks I'm no better than he is that 
 I'm one of the farm animals.' ' Mr. Atwood/ mamma 
 began, ' she did not mean to be cruel ' he interrupted her 
 with an impatient gesture. ' The end hasn't come yet,' he 
 muttered and stalked away. ' ' 
 
 Mildred sat down with a little perplexed frown upon her
 
 BELLE AND MILDRED. 161 
 
 face. "I'm sure I meant him only kindness," she said ; 
 " why will he be so absurd ?" 
 
 " You had a queer way of showing your kindness," snap 
 ped Belle. 
 
 ' ' What would you have me do ? Encourage him to 
 leave home, and all sorts of folly ?" 
 
 " You can't prevent his leaving home. Mark my words, 
 he'll soon be in this city, and he'll make his way too. He's 
 a good deal more of a man than your lily-fingered Mr. 
 Arnold, and if he wants to be friendly to me and take me out 
 sometimes, I won't have him snubbed. Of course all my 
 old friends will cut me dead. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, if he will transfer his devotion to you, Belle, I'll be 
 as friendly as you wish. ' ' 
 
 " No, you've spoiled him for me or any one else. He's 
 fool enough to think there' snot another girl in the world but 
 Mildred Jocelyn, and he'll get you if you don't look out, for 
 he has the most resolute look that I ever saw in any one's 
 eyes. The day before we came away something happened 
 that took away my breath. A man brought a young horse 
 which he said no one could manage. Roger went" out and 
 looked into the beast' s eyes, and the vicious thing bit at him 
 and struck at him with his forefoot Then as he tried to 
 stroke his back he kicked up with both hind feet. Oh, he 
 was a very Satan of a horse, and they had a rope around his 
 head that would have held a ship. Roger went and got what 
 he called a curb-bit, and almost in a twinkling he had slipped 
 it on the horse, and without a moment's hesitation he sprang 
 upon his bare back. The horse then reared so that I 
 thought he'd fall over backward on Roger. Mamma fairly 
 looked faintit was right after dinner Susan and the chil 
 dren were crying, his father and mother, and even the owner 
 of the horse, were calling to him to get off, but he merely 
 pulled one rein sharply, and down the horse came on his
 
 1 62 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 four feet again. Instead of looking frightened he was coolly 
 fastening the rope so as to have it out of the way. After let 
 ting the ugly beast rear and plunge and kick around in the 
 road a few minutes, Roger turned his head toward a stone 
 wall that separated the road from a large pasture field that 
 was full of cows, and he went over the fence with a flying 
 leap, at which we all screamed and shouted again. Then 
 away they went round and round that field, the cows, 
 with their tails in the air, careering about also, as much 
 excited as we were. At last, when the horse found he 
 couldn't throw him, he lay down and rolled. Roger 
 was off in a second, and then sat on the beast's head for 
 a while so he couldn't get up when he wanted to. At 
 last he let the brute get up again, but he was no sooner on 
 his feet than Roger was on his back, and away they went 
 again till the horse was all in a foam, and Roger could guide 
 him easily with one hand. He then leaped the tamed creature 
 back into the road, and came trotting quietly to the kitchen 
 door. Springing lightly down, and with one arm over the pant 
 ing horse's neck, he said quietly, ' Sue, bring me two or three 
 lumps of sugar. ' The horse ate them out of his hand, and 
 then followed him around like a spaniel. His owner was 
 perfectly carried away ; ' Jerusalem ! ' he exclaimed, ' I've 
 never seen the beat of that. I offered you twenty-five dollars 
 if you would break him, and I'll make it thirty if at the end 
 of a month you'll train him to saddle and harness. He 
 wasn' t worth a rap till you took him in hand. ' ' It' s a bar 
 gain/ said Roger coolly, and then he whispered to me, 
 ' That will buy me a pile of books.' That's the kind of a 
 man that I believe in," concluded Belle, nodding her head 
 emphatically, ' ' and I want you to understand that Roger 
 Atwood and I are very good friends. ' ' 
 
 Mildred meditatively bit her lip, and her cheeks had 
 flushed with excitement at Belle's story, but she would make
 
 BELLE AND MILDRED. 163 
 
 no comment upon it in words. " What does he want with 
 so many books ?" she asked, after a moment 
 
 ' ' You' 11 see before you are gray. ' ' 
 
 " Indeed ! has he taken you into his confidence, also?" 
 
 " That's my affair. I believe in him, and so will you 
 some day. He already knows more Latin than you do." 
 
 " That's not saying a great deal," replied Mildred, with a 
 short, vexed laugh. " How came he to know Latin ?" 
 
 ' ' He studied it at school as you did. The fact is, you are 
 so prejudiced you know nothing about him. He's strong 
 and brave, and he'll do what he attempts." 
 
 " He'll find that I am strong, too, in my way," said Mil 
 dred coldly. ' ' He said something that hurt me more than 
 I hurt him, and all I ask of him is to leave me alone. I 
 wish him well, and all that, but we are not congenial. Com 
 plete success in his wild ambition wouldn't make any differ 
 ence. He ought to remain at home and take care of his 
 own people." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad he's coming to New York, and I hope 
 for my sake you'll treat him politely." 
 
 " Oh, certainly for your sake, Belle. Let us all stick to 
 that." 
 
 " Belle's a mere child," said Mrs. Jocelyn, with her low 
 laugh. 
 
 "I'm sixteen years old, I thank you ; that is, I shall be 
 soon ; and I know a real man from the ghost of one. ' ' 
 
 "Belle," cried Mildred, in a tone she rarely used, "I 
 will neither permit nor pardon any such allusions." 
 
 "Come, girls," expostulated their mother, "our nest is 
 too small for any disagreements, and we have a great deal too 
 much to do for such useless discussions. I'm sorry with 
 Millie that Roger is bent on leaving home, for I think his 
 parents need him, and he could do well in the country. Thtt 
 city is too crowded already."
 
 *64 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " He'll make his way through the crowd," persisted Belle. 
 
 " Does his father or mother know of his plans ?" 
 
 " Well, to tell the truth, I don't know very much about 
 his plans. He talks little concerning himself, but when he 
 took me out to drive the day after Millie left, he said he had 
 decided to come to New York and get an education, and that 
 if I'd let him know where we lived he'd come and see me 
 occasionally. I said, ' What will they do at home without 
 you ? ' and he replied, ' I can do more for them away from 
 home by and by than here. ' Now, mamma, you' 11 let him 
 come to see me, won't you ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Belle. I'll be reasonable in this respect. I 
 know young people need company and recreation. My only 
 aim has ever been to secure you and Millie good company, 
 and I hope your love for me, Belle, will lead you to shun 
 any other. As we are now situated you must be very, very 
 cautious in making new acquaintances. Young Mr. Atwood 
 is a good, honest-hearted fellow, and I think Millie is a little 
 prejudiced against him." 
 
 " Very well, mamma, I'll be all smiles so long as he de 
 votes himself to Belle ; but he must stop there most em 
 phatically. ' ' 
 
 Thus with busy tongues and busier hands they talked of 
 the past and the future while they unpacked and stowed away 
 their belongings with almost the same economy of space tha ; 
 is practised on shipboard. Mrs. Wheaton was introduced, 
 and she at once became a fast ally of Mrs. Jocelyn as well 
 as of Mildred. 
 
 " I 'ope yer' 11 halways remember yer 'ave a neighbor that's 
 'andy and villing," she said, as she courtesied herself out. 
 " Hit's too bad," she muttered, on her way back to her 
 room, " that she's 'ad to come down to this, for she's a born 
 lady ; she's has much a lady as hany 'oo howned this 'or.se 
 a 'undred years hago."
 
 BELLE AND MILDRED. 165 
 
 Thus their life began in the old mansion, and from its 
 humble shelter they looked abroad to see what they could 
 obtain from the great indifferent world without. 
 
 " Belle and I must not be idle an hour longer than we can 
 not help," said Mildred resolutely, on the following day; 
 " and the only thing is to find what it would be best to do. I 
 am going out to try to sell the work I did in the country, and 
 see if I cannot get orders for more of the same kind. My 
 great hope is that I can work at home. I wish I knew 
 enough to be a teacher, but like all the rest I know a little 
 of everything, and not much of anything. Fancy work will 
 be my forte, if I can only sell it. I do hope I sha' n' t meet 
 any one I know, ' ' and heavily veiled she took her way with 
 her dainty fabrics toward the region of fashionable shops. 
 Those, however, who were willing to buy offered her so little 
 that she was discouraged, and she finally left the articles at a 
 store whose proprietor was willing to receive them on com 
 mission. 
 
 " You must not calculate on speedy sale," the lady in 
 charge remarked. ' ' People are very generally out of town 
 yet, and will be for some time. Your work is pretty, how 
 ever, and will sell, I think, later on, although in these hard 
 times useful articles are chiefly in demand." 
 
 ' ' Please do your best for me, ' ' said Mildred appealingly, 
 "and please let me know what you think will sell. I'm 
 willing to do any kind of work I can that will bring the 
 money we need." After receiving some suggestions she 
 bought more material, and then sat down to work in the hope 
 that the returning citizens would purchase her articles so 
 liberally that she could do her share toward the family's 
 support. 
 
 She did not shrink from labor, but with the, false pride so 
 general she did shrink morbidly from meeting those who 
 knew her in the past, and from their learning where and how
 
 l66 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 she lived. She was wholly bent on seclusion until their for 
 tunes were greatly mended, fondly hoping that her father 
 would rally such a constituency from his Southern acquaint 
 ance that he would soon command a fine salary. And the 
 expectation was not an unreasonable one, had Mr. Jocelyn 
 been able to work with persistent energy for a few years. 
 The South was impoverished, and while a remunerative trade 
 might be built up from it, patient and exceedingly aggressive 
 labor would be required to secure such a result. It is the 
 curse of opium, however, to paralyze energy, and to render 
 all effort fitful and uncertain. He should have written scores 
 of letters daily, and attended to each commission with the 
 utmost promptness and care, but there were times when 
 the writing of a single letter was a burden, and too often it 
 was vague and pointless like the condition of his mind when 
 it was written. Mildred did not dream of this, and his em 
 ployers felt that they must give him time before expecting 
 very much return for his effort. Since he attended to rou 
 tine duties fairly well there was no cause for complaint, 
 although something in his manner often puzzled them a little. 
 It was Mildred's belief that renewed prosperity would soon 
 enable them to live in a way entitling them to recognition in 
 the society to which Arnold belonged. If thus much could 
 be accomplished she felt that her own and her lover's faith 
 fulness would accomplish the rest. They were both young, 
 and could afford to wait. 
 
 " The world brings changes for the better sometimes, " she 
 thought, as she plied her needle, " as well as for the worse ; 
 and no matter what his proud mother thinks, I'm sure I 
 could take better care of him than she can. Whether they 
 know it or not, the course of his family toward him is one of 
 cold-blooded cruelty and repression. If he could live in a 
 genial, sunny atmosphere of freedom, affection, and respect, 
 his manhood would assert itself, he would grow stronger,
 
 BELLE AND MILDRED. 167 
 
 and might do as much in his way as Roger Atwood ever can 
 in his. He has a fine mind and a brilliant imagination ; 
 but he is chilled, embittered, and fettered by being constantly 
 reminded of his weakness and dependence ; and now posi 
 tive unhappiness is added to his other misfortunes, although 
 I think my little note will do him no harm' ' she dreamed 
 that it might be carried next to his heart instead of moulder 
 ing where the faithless Jotham had dropped it. "I shall not 
 punish him for his family's harsh pride, from which he suffers 
 even more than I do. Turn, turn, fortune's wheel ! We 
 are down now, but that only proves that we must soon come 
 up again. Being poor and living in a tenement isn't so 
 dreadful as I feared, and we can stand it for a while. As 
 stout Mrs. Wheaton says, ' There's vorse troubles hin the 
 vorld. ' Now that we know and have faced the worst we can 
 turn our hopes and thoughts toward the best." 
 
 Poor child ! It was well the future was veiled. 
 
 The mode of Belle' s activity was a problem, but that incip 
 ient young woman practically decided it herself. She was 
 outspoken in her preference. 
 
 " I don't want to work cooped up at home," she said. 
 " I'd go wild if I had to sit and stitch all day. School half 
 killed me, although there was always some excitement to be 
 had in breaking the rules." 
 
 " Naughty Belle !" cried her mother. 
 
 " Never naughty when you coax, mamma. I'd have been 
 a saint if they'd only taken your tactics with me, but they 
 didn't know enough, thank fortune, so I had my fun. If 
 they had only looked at me as you do, and put me on- my 
 honor, and appealed to my better feelings and all that, and 
 laughed with me and at me now and then, I'd been fool 
 enough to have kept every rule. You always knew, 
 mamma, just how to get me right under your thumb, in spite 
 of myself."
 
 1 68 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " I hope I may always keep you there, my darling, in 
 spite of this great evil world, out into which you wish to go. 
 It is not under my thumb, Belle,, but under my protecting 
 wing that I wish to keep you." 
 
 " Dear little mother," faltered the warm-hearted girl, her 
 eyes filling with tears, " don't you see I've grown to be too 
 big a chicken to be kept under your wing ? I must go out 
 and pick for myself, and bring home a nice morsel now and 
 then for the little mother, too. Yes, I admit that I want 
 to go out into the world. I want to be where everything is 
 bright and moving. It's my nature, and what's the use of 
 fighting nature ? You and Millie can sit here like two doves 
 billing and cooing all day. I must use my wings. I'd die 
 in a cage, even though the cage was home. But never fear, 
 I'll come back to it every night, and love it in my way just 
 as much as you do in yours. You must put me in a store, 
 mamma, where there are crowds of people going and 
 coming. They won't do me any more harm than when I 
 used to meet them in the streets, but they' 11 amuse me. My 
 eyes and hands will be busy, and I won't die from moping. 
 I've no more education than a kitten, but shop-girls are not 
 expected to know the dead languages, and I can talk my 
 own fast enough. ' ' 
 
 " Indeed you can !" cried Mildred. 
 
 " But, Belle," said her mother, who was strongly in 
 clined toward Mildred's idea of seclusion until fortune's 
 wheel had turned, " how will you like to have it known in 
 after years that you were a shop-girl ?' ' 
 
 '.' Yes," added Mildred, " you may have to wait on some 
 whom you invited to your little company last spring. I 
 wish you could find something to do that would be quiet 
 and secluded." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" cried Belle impatiently. " We can't 
 hide like bears that go into hollow trees and suck their paws
 
 BELLE AND MILDRED. 169 
 
 for half a dozen years, more or less" Belle's zoological 
 ideas were startling rather than accurate " I don't want to 
 hide and cower. Why should we ? We've done nothing 
 we need be ashamed of. Father' s been unfortunate ; so 
 have hundreds and thousands of other men m these hard 
 times. Roger showed me an estimate, cut from a news 
 paper, of how many had failed during the last two or three 
 years why it was an army of men. We ain' t alone in our 
 troubles, and Roger said that those who cut old acquaint 
 ances because they had been unfortunate were contemptible 
 snobs, and the sooner they were found out the better ; and 
 I want to find out my score or two of very dear friends who 
 have eaten ice-cream at our house. I hope I may have a 
 chance to wait on 'em. I'll do it with the air of a princess," 
 she concluded, assuming a preternatural dignity, ' ' and if 
 they put on airs I'll raise the price of the goods, and tell 
 them that since they are so much above other people they 
 ought to pay double price for everything. I don't believe 
 they'll all turn up their noses at me," she added, after a 
 moment, her face becoming wistful and gentle in its expres 
 sion as she recalled some favorites whose whispered confi 
 dences and vows of eternal friendship seemed too recent to 
 be meaningless and empty. 
 
 The poor child would soon learn that, although school 
 girls' vows are rarely false, they are usually as fragile and 
 transient as harebells. She had dropped into a different 
 world, and the old one would fade like a receding star. She 
 would soon find that her only choice must be to make new 
 associations and friendships and find new pleasures ; and this 
 her mercurial, frank, and fearless nature would incline her to 
 do very promptly. 
 
 With Mildred it was different. The old life was almost 
 essential to her, and it contained everything that her heart 
 most craved.
 
 1 70 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Her courage was not Belle's natural and uncalculating in 
 trepidity. She would go wherever duty required her pres 
 ence, she would sacrifice herself for those she loved, and she 
 was capable of martyrdom for a faith about as free from doc 
 trinal abstractions as the simple allegiance of the sisters of 
 Bethany to the Christ who " loved " them. Notwithstanding 
 the truth of all this, it has already been shown that she was a 
 very human girl. Brave and resolute she could be, but she 
 would tremble and escape if possible. Especially would she 
 shrink from anything tending to wound her womanly deli 
 cacy and a certain trace of sensitive Southern pride. Above 
 all things she shrank from that which threatened her love. 
 This was now her life, and its absorbing power colored all her 
 thoughts and plans. Both conscience and reason, however, 
 convinced her that Belle was right, and that the only chance 
 for the vigorous, growing girl was some phase of active life. 
 With her very limited attainments, standing behind a counter 
 seemed the only opening that the family would consider, and 
 it was eventually agreed upon, after a very reluctant consent 
 from her father.
 
 BELLE LAUNCHES HERSELF. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BELLE LAUNCHES HERSELF. 
 
 ONLY the least of Belle's difficulties were past when she 
 obtained consent to stand behind a counter. With 
 her mother she made many a weary expedition through the 
 hot streets, and was laughed at in some instances for even 
 imagining that employment could be obtained at the dullest 
 season of the year. As soon as their errand was made known 
 they were met by a brief and often a curt negative. Mrs. 
 Jocelyn would soon have been discouraged, but Belle's black 
 eyes only snapped with irritation at their poor success. 
 ' ' Give up ?' ' she cried. ' ' No, not if I have to work for 
 nothing to get a chance. Giving up isn't my style, at least 
 not till I'm tired of a thing ; besides it's a luxury poof 
 people can't indulge in." 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn felt that the necessity which compelled this 
 quest was a bitter one, and her heart daily grew sorer that 
 she had not resolutely saved part of every dollar earned by 
 her husband in the old prosperous times. As she saw the 
 poor young creatures standing wearily, and often idly and 
 listlessly, through the long summer days, as her woman's 
 eyes detected in the faces of many the impress of the pain 
 they tried to conceal but could never forget, she half guessed 
 that few laborers in the great city won their bread more hardly 
 than these slender girls, doomed in most instances never to 
 know a vigorous and perfected womanhood. " Belle, mv
 
 1 7 2 WITHO UT A HOME. 
 
 child, how can you stand during these long, hot days ? It's 
 providential that we can't find any place." 
 
 ' ' Well, mamma, I' m not very well up in the ways of 
 Providence. I fear the dull season has more to do with it. 
 Nevertheless I'm going to make a situation if I can't find 
 one. ' ' 
 
 She had in her mind a shop on Sixth Avenue, which had 
 the appearance of a certain " go and life," as she phrased it. 
 
 " There's a strong-willed, wide-awake man back of that 
 establishment, ' ' she had said to herself more than once, ' ' and 
 if I could get at him I believe he' d give me work, but the 
 hateful old foreman stands in the way like a dragon. ' ' 
 
 She and her mother had been curtly informed by this well- 
 dressed ' ' dragon, ' ' which parted its hair like a woman, that 
 " there was no use in bothering the proprietor ; he never 
 added to his help in August the idea was absurd. 
 
 One morning after Mrs. Jocelyn had about given up the 
 hope of obtaining a place until the autumn trade revived as 
 far as it would revive in those languid years Belle started 
 out alone, heavily veiled, and with her purpose also veiled 
 from her mother and Mildred. She went straight to the 
 shop on Sixth Avenue that had taken her fancy, and walked 
 up to the obnoxious foreman without a trace of hesitation. 
 " I wish to see Mr. Schriven, " she said, in a quiet, decisive 
 manner. 
 
 " He is very busy, madam, and does not like to be dis 
 turbed. I will attend to anything you wish. ' ' 
 
 " Thank you ; then please direct me to the proprietor's 
 office without delay. ' ' 
 
 After a moment's hesitation the man complied. This 
 veiled presence had the appearance of a gentlewoman and 
 was decided in manner. Therefore he led the way to a small 
 private office, and said, " A lady, sir, who insists on seeing 
 you," and then discreetly closed the door and departed.
 
 BELLE LAUNCHES HERSELF. i?3 
 
 The man of business allowed his pen to glide to the end 
 of his sentence before turning to greet his visitor. Belle in 
 the mean time had advanced to a point from which she 
 could look directly into his face, for, child though she was, 
 she understood that it was her difficult task first to obtain a 
 hearing, and then to disarm his anger at her intrusion. 
 Aware, however, that she had nothing to lose and everything 
 to gain by the adventure, her natural fearlessness and quick 
 ness of tongue carried her through. She had already guessed 
 that an appeal for employment, even the most pitiful, would 
 meet with a flat, prompt refusal, therefore she had resolved 
 on different tactics. 
 
 At last the man lifted his head in his quick, imperious way, 
 asking, as he turned toward her, " What is your business with 
 me, madam?" 
 
 " I like your store very much," Belle remarked quietly. 
 
 Mr. Schriven now really glanced at her, and he found her 
 brilliant black eyes and fair flushed face such pleasing ob 
 jects of contemplation that he was content to look for a 
 moment while he puzzled a little over the unexpected appa 
 rition. He then smiled satirically and said, " What follows 
 from so momentous a fact ?' ' 
 
 " It follows that I would rather be employed here than in 
 other stores that I do not like so well. My mother and I 
 have visited nearly every one, and I like yours best ' ' 
 
 " Well, this is cool. You and your mother were refused 
 employment at this season at all the others, were you net ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 ' ' And my foreman declined your services here, also, did 
 he not ?' ' 
 
 " Yes, sir, but I was sure that if I saw you I should obtain 
 my wish. There's a life and snap abciit this place that I 
 didn't see elsewhere, and therefore I knew a live man, and
 
 174 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 not a machine, was back of it, and that if I could see and 
 talk with him he'd give me a chance." 
 
 ' ' You are exceedingly flattering, ' ' said the man, with an 
 other satirical smile. ' ' Has it not occurred to you that your 
 course is just tinged with assurance?" 
 
 " Have I said or done anything unbecoming to a lady?" 
 asked Belle indignantly. 
 
 Mr. Schriven laughed good-naturedly, for Belle's snapping 
 eyes and brusque ways were beginning to interest him. 
 " Oh, I forgot that you American working-women are all 
 ladies. I am told that you speak of certain of your number 
 as ' scrub-ladies ' and ' washer-ladies. ' ' 
 
 " You may call me a shop-girl, sir, as soon as I am in 
 your employ." 
 
 " And why not now ?" 
 
 ' ' Because I' m not yet a shop-girl, and never have been 
 one. I've often bought goods with my mother in this very 
 store, and I come from as good blood as there is in the 
 South. A few months ago my social position was as good as 
 yours, and now that we have been unfortunate and I must 
 work, I see no presumption in asking you to your face for 
 honest work. ' ' 
 
 " Not at all, my dear young lady," resumed Mr. Schri 
 ven, still maintaining his half-amused, half-ironical manner, 
 " but I must inform you that I cannot afford to employ my 
 social equals as shop-girls." 
 
 "When I enter your employ of my own freewill," re 
 sponded Belle promptly, " I the same as promise to obey 
 all the rules and regulations of your establishment, and I'll 
 doit, too. What's more, I'll sell so many goods in dull 
 times and all times that you can well afford to make a place 
 for me if you have none. One thing is certain I'm going 
 to get work, and my work will repay those who employ me 
 a hundred times."
 
 BELLE LAUNCHES HERSELF. 1 75 
 
 "Well, you are an odd fish," Mr. Schriven ejaculated; 
 " I beg your pardon, you are not yet in my employ you 
 are an eccentric young lady, and a very young one, too, to 
 be making your way in the world in this irresistible style. 
 You mean what you say, that if employed you will put on 
 no airs and conform to rules ?" 
 
 " I mean just what I say." 
 
 Mr. Schriven fell into a foxy fit of musing, and there rose 
 before his mind the pale face and dragged, weary, listless look 
 of a girl now standing at the ribbon counter. " She'll break 
 down when hard work begins again," he thought; "she's 
 giving way now with nothing much to do. To be sure she 
 has been here a long time, and has done her best and all that, 
 but her day is past, and here's plenty of young flesh and 
 blood to fill her place. This one is rather young, but she's 
 smart as a whip she's full of mettle and is fresh and healthy- 
 looking. It won't do to have pale girls around, for it gives 
 cursed busybodies a chance to rant about women standing all 
 day. (Out of the corner of his eye he measured Belle from 
 head to foot. ) She can stand, and stand it, too, for a long while. 
 She' s compact and stout She's built right for the business. ' ' 
 At last he said, aloud, ' ' In case I should so far depart from 
 my usual custom and make a place for you, as you suggest, 
 what do you propose to charge for the services you rate so 
 highly ?' ' 
 
 " What you choose to give." 
 
 " Well," was the laughing answer, " there's method in 
 your madness. Take that pen and write what I dic 
 tate. ' ' 
 
 Belle wrote a few sentences in a dashing, but sufficiently 
 legible hand. 
 
 " You will have to practise a little, and aim at distinctness 
 and clearness. That's more than style in business," Mr. 
 Schriven continued deliberately, for the young creature was
 
 I7 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 so delightfully fresh and original that he began to regard he 
 as an agreeable episode in the dull August day. " I'll make 
 a place for you, as you say, if you will come for three dollars 
 a week and comply with the rules. You are to do just as 
 you are bid by those having charge of your department, and 
 you had better keep on their right side. You are not to 
 come to me again, remember, unless I send for you," he 
 concluded, with his characteristic smile ; "an event that you 
 must not look forward to, for I assure you such interviews 
 are rare in my experience. Come next Monday at seven if 
 you agree to these conditions." 
 
 " I agree, and I thank you," the girl promptly answered, 
 her brilliant eyes glowing with triumph, for thoughts like 
 these were in her mind : " How I can crow over mamma 
 and Millie, who said this very morning there was no use in 
 trying ! Won't it be delicious to hand papa enough money 
 to pay the rent for a month !" No wonder the child's face 
 was radiant. 
 
 The thoughts of her employer were of quite a different 
 character. He gave her a look of bold admiration, and said 
 familiarly, " By Jupiter, but you are a daisy !" 
 
 Belle's manner changed instantly. He caught a swift, 
 indignant flash in her dark eyes, and then she laid her hand 
 on the door-knob and said, with the utmost deference and 
 distance of manner, " I will try to attend to the duties of 
 my station in a way that will cause no complaint. Good- 
 morning, sir." 
 
 ' ' Wait a moment, ' ' and Mr. Schriven touched a bell, and 
 immediately the foreman appeared. 
 
 ' ' Give this girl a place next Monday ai the ribbon coun 
 ter, ' ' he said, in the quick staccato tones of one who is ab 
 solute and saves time even in the utterance of words. " I 
 also wish to see you two hours hence " 
 
 The man bowed, as if all were a matter of course, but
 
 BELLE LAUNCHES HERSELF. 177 
 
 when he was alone with Belle he said sharply, " You think 
 you got ahead of me. ' ' 
 
 He would indeed have been the most malicious of dragons 
 had not Belle's smiling face and frank words disarmed him. 
 
 " I did get ahead of you, and you know it, but you are too 
 much of a man to hold a grudge against a poor girl who has 
 her bread to earn. Now that I am under your charge I 
 promise that I' 11 do my best to please you. ' ' 
 
 " Very well, then ; we'll see. I'll have my eye on you, 
 and don' t you forget it ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred laughed, sighed, and shook 
 their heads over Belle's humorous account of her morning's 
 adventure. They praised her motive, they congratulated her 
 on her success, but her mother said earnestly, " My dear 
 little girl, don' t get bold and unwomanly. We had all bet 
 ter starve than come to that. It would wound me to the 
 heart if your manner should ever cause any one to think of 
 you otherwise than as the pure-hearted, innocent girl that 
 you are. But alas ! Belle, the world is too ready to think 
 evil. You don't know it yet at all." 
 
 She knew it better than they thought. There was one 
 phase of her interview with Mr. Schriven that she had not 
 revealed, well knowing that her gentle mother would be in 
 exorable in her decision that the shop must not even be 
 entered again. The girl" was rapidly acquiring a certain 
 shrewd hardihood. She was not given to sentiment, and 
 was too young to suffer deeply from regret for the past. In 
 deed she turned buoyantly toward the future, while at the 
 same time she recognized that life had now become a keen 
 battle among others in like condition. 
 
 ' ' I don' t intend to starve, ' ' she said to herself, ' ' nor to 
 bite off my own nose because the world is not just what 
 mother and Millie think it ought to be. Papa would be in 
 clined to break that man's head if I told him what he said
 
 1 78 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 and how he looked. But what would come of it ? Papa 
 would go to jail and we into the street. Unless papa can 
 get up in the world again very fast, Millie and I shall find that 
 we have got to take care of ourselves and hold our tongues. 
 I hadn't been around with mamma one day before I 
 learned that much. Mamma and Millie were never made to 
 be working-women. They are over-refined and high-toned, 
 but I can't afford too much of that kind of thing on three 
 dollars a week. I'm a ' shop lady ' that's the kind of lady 
 I' m to be and I must come right down to what secures suc 
 cess without any nonsense. ' ' 
 
 In justice it should be said that Belle's practical acceptance 
 of the situation looked forward to no compromise with evil ; 
 but she had seen that she must come in contact with the 
 world as it existed, and that she must resolutely face the 
 temptations incident to her lot rather than vainly seek to 
 escape from them. Alas ! her young eyes had only caught a 
 faint glimpse of the influences that would assail her untrained, 
 half-developed moral nature. Body and soul would be taxed 
 to the utmost in the life upon which she was entering. 
 
 On the Sunday following Mr. Jocelyn slept so late that 
 none of the family went to church. Indeed, since their old 
 relations were broken up they scarcely knew where to go, and 
 Mildred no more felt that she could return to the fashionable 
 temple in which Mrs. Arnold worshipped than present her 
 self at the elegant mansion on Fifth Avenue. The family 
 spent the after part of the day in one of the most secluded 
 nooks they could find in Central Park, and Mildred often 
 looked back upon those hours as among the brightest in the 
 shrouded past. Mr. Jocelyn gauged his essential stimulant 
 so well that he was geniality itself ; Belle was more exuberant 
 than usual ; Fred and Minnie rejoiced once more in flowers 
 and trees and space to rim Mrs. Jocelyn' slow, sweet laugh 
 was hear4 again and again, for those who made her life were
 
 BELLE LAUNCHES HERSELF. 179 
 
 all around her, and they seemed happier than they had been 
 for many a long, weary day. For a brief time at least the 
 sun shone brightly through a rift in the clouds gathering 
 ground them. 
 
 Beyond the fact that Belle had found a place, little was 
 said to Mr. Jocelyn, for the subject seemed very painful to 
 him, and the young girl started off Monday morning in high 
 spirits. The foreman met her in a curt, business-like way, 
 and assigned her to her place, saying that the girl in charge 
 of the goods would tell her about the marks, prices, etc. 
 This girl and her companions received Belle very coldly, nor 
 did they thaw out before her sunshine. As a matter both of 
 duty and interest the young woman upon whom the task 
 devolved explained all that was essential in a harsh, con 
 strained voice, and the others ignored the new-comer during 
 business hours. Belle paid no attention to them, but gave 
 her whole mind to the details of her work, making rapid 
 progress. " I' 11 have time for them by and by, ' ' she mut 
 tered, ' ' and can manage them all the better when I know as 
 much as they do." 
 
 She saw, too, that the foreman had his eye upon her and 
 her companions, so she. assumed the utmost humility and 
 docility, but persisted in being told and retold all she wished 
 to know. Since she observed that it was the foreman's eye 
 and not good-will which constrained the cold, unsympathetic 
 instruction received, she made no scruple in taxing the giver 
 to the utmost. 
 
 When at last they went to the room in which they ate theii 
 lunch, the girls treated her as if she were a leper ; but jusl 
 to spite them she continued as serene as a May morning, 
 either acting as if she did not see them or treating them as if 
 they were the most charming young women she had ever 
 met. She saw with delight that her course aggravated them 
 and yet gave no cause for complaint.
 
 l8o WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 As soon as permitted she hastened home, and was glad ta 
 lie down all the evening from sheer fatigue, but she made 
 light of her weariness, concealed the treatment she had re 
 ceived from the girls, and the dejection it was beginning to 
 occasion in spite of her courage ; she even made the little 
 home group laugh by her droll accounts of the day. Then 
 they all petted and praised and made so much of her that 
 her spirits rose to their usual height, and she said confidently, 
 as she went to a long night's rest, " Don't you worry, little 
 mother ; I didn' t expect to get broken in to my work without 
 a backache. ' ' 
 
 The next day it was just the same, but Belle knew now 
 what to charge for the ribbons, or, if she was not sure, the 
 others were obliged, under the eye of the inexorable foreman 
 who for some reason gave this counter a great deal of at 
 tention to tell her correctly, so she began to lie in wait for 
 customers. Some came to her of their own accord, and 
 they smiled back into her eager, smiling face. 
 
 In two or three instances her intent black eyes and manner 
 seemed to attract attention and arrest the steps of those who 
 had no intention of stopping. One case was so marked that 
 the alert foreman drew near to note the result. An elderly 
 lady, whose eye BeJle had apparently caught by a look o( 
 such vivacity and interest that the woman almost relt that she 
 had been spoken to, came to the girl, saying, " Well, my 
 child, what have you that is pretty to-day ?" 
 
 " Just what will please you, madam." 
 
 " You please me, whether your ribbons will or not It's 
 pleasant for a customer to be looked at as if she were not a 
 nuisance," she added significantly, and in atone that Belle's 
 companions, with their cold, impassive faces, could not fail 
 to hear. ' ' You may pick out something nice for one ot my 
 little granddaughters. 
 
 Dimpling with smiles and pleasure, Belle obeyed.
 
 BELLE LAUNCHES HERSELF, 181 
 
 ing that the eye of the arbiter of their fates was upon them, 
 the young women near might have been statues in their rigid 
 attitudes. Only the hot blood mounting to their faces betray 
 ed their anger. There was evidently something wrong at 
 the ribbon counter something repressed, a smouldering and 
 increasing indignation, a suggestion of rebellion. So the 
 foreman evidently thought, from his frequent appearances ; 
 so the floor-walker clearly surmised, for with imperious 
 glances and words he held each one sternly to her duty. 
 Belle was smiling and working in the midst of a gathering 
 storm, and she was becoming conscious of it So far from 
 cowering, her indignation was fast rising, and there was an 
 ominous glow kindling in her dark eyes. Their seemingly 
 unwarranted hostility and jealousy were beginning to incense 
 her. She believed she had as much right there as they had, 
 and she resolved to maintain her right Catching an ireful 
 glance from the girl in charge of the counter, she returned 
 it with interest. Even this spark came very near kindling 
 the repressed fires into an open flame, regardless of con 
 sequences. The bread of these girls was at stake, but 
 women are not calculating when their feelings are deeply 
 disturbed. 
 
 At last, just as the wretched afternoon was ending, and 
 preparations to close were in progress, a pale, thin girl, with a 
 strange and rather reckless look, came in, and, sitting down 
 before Belle, fixed her gaunt eyes upon her. 
 
 ' ' So you were heartless enough to take my place away 
 from me ?' ' she said slowly, after a moment. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," answered Belle indig 
 nantly. 
 
 ' Yes, you do know what she means, you little black 
 snake in the grass," whispered one of the girls in her ear 
 while pretending to put a box upon the shelf. 
 
 Belle whirled upon her with such a vivid and instantaneous
 
 182 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 flash of anger that the girl stepped back precipitately and 
 dropped the box. 
 
 Just at this moment Mr. Schriven, in the act of departure, 
 came out of his office and witnessed the whole scene. He 
 stopped and smiled broadly. The foreman had informed 
 him from time to time of the little ' ' comedy' ' progressing 
 at the ribbon counter, and the two potentates felt quite in 
 debted to Belle for a sensation in the dullest of dull seasons, 
 especially as the girl's conduct was wholly in the line of their 
 wishes, regulations, and interests. " She's as plucky as a 
 terrier, ' ' the echo of his chief had said, ' ' and the time will 
 come when she'll sell more goods than any two girls in the 
 store. You made a ten-strike in effecting that exchange." 
 
 It was rich sport for them to see her fiery spirit arousing 
 and yet defying the intense and ill-concealed hostility of her 
 companions a hostility, too, that was extending beyond the 
 ribbon counter, and had been manifesting itself by whisper 
 ing, significant nods, and black looks toward the poor child 
 all the afternoon ; but so far from shrinking before this con 
 centration of ill-will Belle had only grown more indignant, 
 more openly resentful, and unable to maintain her resolute 
 and tantalizing serenity. 
 
 Feeling that it would compromise his dignity and authority 
 even to appear to notice what was going forward, Mr. Schri 
 ven wrapped himself in his greatness and passed down the 
 shop, sweeping the excited group that was restrained for 
 the moment by his presence with a cold, nonchalant glance, 
 from which, however, nothing escaped. When in the street 
 his characteristic smile reappeared. 
 
 " By the Lord Harry !" he muttered, " if she isn't the 
 gamiest bit of flesh and blood that I've seen in a long time 1 
 She's worth looking after." 
 
 Since his eye and restraining presence, however, were now 
 absent from the store, there would have been no small tumult
 
 BELLE LAUNCHES HERSELF. 183 
 
 at the ribbon counter had not Belle by her straightforward, 
 fearless manner brought things to a speedy issue. There 
 were now no customers in the shop, and the discipline of the 
 day was practically over, therefore the girl on whom Belle had 
 turned so passionately, having reached a safe distance, said, 
 outspokenly, " I' 11 say it now, so all can hear, even if I lose 
 my place for it. You are a mean, p' isinis little black snake in 
 the grass, We all know how you got this girl out of the 
 place she' s had for years, and I want you to understand that 
 if you stay you' 11 have a hot time of it " 
 
 " And I wantjv<? to understand that if I've a right to stay, 
 I will stay," cried Belle, in a ringing voice. "I'm not 
 afraid of you, nor a thousand like you. Either you' re all cats 
 to treat a young girl as you've treated me the last two days, 
 or else there's something that I don't understand. But I'm 
 going to understand it here and now. You hold your tongue, 
 and let this girl speak who says I've taken her place. She's 
 the one I' m to deal with. But first let me say how I got this 
 place I asked for it. That' s the whole story, and I didn' t 
 know I was taking it from any one else. ' ' 
 
 Belle's courageous and truth- stamped manner began to 
 create a diversion in her favor, and all near listened with her 
 to what the dismissed girl might say. The latter did not in 
 the least respond to Belle's energy, but after a long, weary sigh 
 she began, without raising her head from her hand as she sat 
 leaning on the counter, " Whether you' re right or wrong, I'm 
 too badly used up to quarrel with you or to answer in any 
 such gunpowdery fashion. I'm dead beat, but I thought I'd 
 like to come in and see you all once more, and my old place, 
 and who was standing in it You are at the beginning, my 
 pert one. If I was as young and strong as you I wouldn't 
 come and stand here." 
 
 " How is your mother?" asked the girl in charge of the 
 counter.
 
 1 84 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 "She's dying, starving," was the reply, in the same 
 dreary, apathetic tone, and black looks were again directed 
 toward Belle. 
 
 She heeded them not, however. For a moment her eyes 
 dilated with horror, then she sprang to the girl, and taking 
 her hands exclaimed, "Good God! What do you mean? 
 Let me go home with you." 
 
 The girl looked at her steadfastly, and then said, ' ' Yes, 
 come home with me. That's the best way to understand it 
 all." 
 
 "We'll bring your mother something by and by," said 
 two or three of the girls as the poor creature rose slowly to 
 follow Belle, who was ready instantly, and whose course com 
 pelled a suspension of judgment on the part of those even 
 the most prejudiced against her.
 
 "/ BELIEVE IN YOU." 185 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 I BELIEVE IN YOU." 
 
 cried Belle impatiently, as they made their 
 way down Sixth Avenue, which was crowded at 
 that hour; " why do you walk so slowly? If my mother 
 was as badly off as you say yours is, I'd fly to her." 
 
 ' ' No, you wouldn' t, if you had scarcely eaten anything for 
 two days." 
 
 " What !" Belle exclaimed, stopping short and looking at 
 her companion to see if she were in earnest. Something in 
 her expression caused the impulsive child to seize her hand 
 and drag her into a bakery near. Then snatching out her 
 little purse she thrust it into the girl's hands and said, 
 ' ' Here, take all I have and buy what you like best. ' ' 
 
 But instead of buying anything, the stranger looked wist 
 fully into the excited and deeply sympathetic face, and said 
 slov/ly, ' ' I don' t believe you' re bad after all. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I'm bad enough bad as most girls of my age," 
 said the innocent girl recklessly, " but I'm not bad enough 
 to keep back a penny if I knew any one was hungry. Stop 
 looking at me and buy what you like, or else let me do it. 
 Take home some of this jelly-cake to your mother. That 
 would tempt nvy appetite if it ever needed any tempting. I 
 half believe you are shamming all this, you act so queer." 
 
 " Come with me," said the girl, for the people in the store 
 were looking at them curiously. When in the street she con 
 tinued, " You are not bad. What is your name ?"
 
 J 86 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Belle Jocelyn." 
 
 " My name is Clara Bute. I am hungry. I'm faint foi 
 food, but may it choke me if I eat any before I take some 
 thing home to mother ! Cake is not what either of us need, 
 although it made me ravenous to see it. You haven't much 
 money here, Belle, and small as the sum is, I don't know 
 when I can repay it." 
 
 " Oh, stop that kind of talk," cried Belle ; " you'll drive 
 me wild. Let us get what your mother does want and take it 
 to her without another word. ' ' 
 
 They purchased bread and milk, a little tea, a bit of beef, 
 a bundle of kindling-wood, and then Belle's slender funds 
 gave out. With these they turned into a side street and 
 soon reached a tall tenement. 
 
 " Oh," sighed Clara, " how can I climb those dreadful 
 stairs ! We live at the top." 
 
 " Drink some of the milk," said Belle kindly, " and 
 then let me carry everything." 
 
 " I guess I'll have to or I'll never get up at all." Slowly 
 and painfully she mounted flight after flight, sitting down at 
 last and resting after each ascent. " I didn't realize I 
 was so weak, ' ' she panted. 
 
 " Tell me your room," said Belle, " and I'll come back 
 and help you." 
 
 " It's the last one back top floor. I've given out." 
 
 Belle left her sitting on the stairs and soon reached the 
 door, which had been left slightly ajar for air, for the evening 
 was sultry. She pushed it open with her foot, since her 
 hands were so full, and with her eyes fixed on the articles she 
 was carrying so as to drop nothing, she crossed the small 
 room to a table and put them down before looking around. 
 
 " There's some mistake," said a very low, hollow voice. 
 
 Belle was almost transfixed by eyes as black as her own, 
 gleaming out of cavernous sockets and from the most emaci-
 
 "/ BELIEVE IN YOU." 187 
 
 ated fece she had ever seen. It seemed as if the dead were 
 peaking to her. At any rate, if the woman were not dead 
 she soon would be, and the thought flashed through Belle's 
 mmd that she would be the cause of her death, since she had 
 token her daughters place and robbed them of sustenance 
 She who had been ready to face a whole shopful of hostile 
 people with undaunted eyes was seized with a remorseful 
 panic, and ran sobbing down to Clara, crying "Oh do 
 come-let me carry you ;" and this she hall did in her ex 
 citement. " Give your mother something to make her bet 
 ter right away. Let me help you tell me what to do " 
 
 Clara went to her mother and kissed her tenderly, whisper 
 ing, ' Courage, momsy, I've got something nice for you " 
 Then she turned and said, "You are too excited Belle 
 11 do everything, and make the little we have go a great 
 way. You would waste things. I know just what to do 
 nly give me time," and she soaked some of the bread in the 
 milk and began feeding her mother, who swallowed with 
 great difficulty. 
 
 "I'll take no more-till-I see you-eat something" 
 gasped the poor woman. ' ' Who gave you all this ? Who's 
 that ?" pointing feebly at Belle. 
 
 " I'm the girl that took Clara's place," Belle began with 
 a fresh burst of sobs. I didn't know I was doing it and 
 now I'll never forgive myself." 
 
 Clara looked at her wonderingly as she explained " The 
 
 foreman said you asked Mr. Schriven to make a place for 
 
 ou, but I don't believe you meant that he should 'sack' 
 
 ie to do it. Why, you are nothing but a great, warm-hearted 
 
 The girls said you were ' knowing,' and could ' play 
 
 as deep a game as the next one,' and that the foreman about 
 
 J same as owned it to them. It's all his doing and his 
 
 master's. They both care more for a yard of ribbon than for 
 
 a girl, body and soul."
 
 i 88 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 "Well," said Belle, with bitter emphasis, "I'll never 
 work for them again never, never." 
 
 " Don't say that," resumed Clara, after coaxing her mother 
 to take a little more nourishment, and then sitting down to 
 eat something herself. " If you are poor you must do the 
 best you can. Now that I know you I'd rather you had my 
 place than any one else, for" she gave a swift glance at her 
 mother's closed eyes, and then whispered in Belle's ear " I 
 couldn't keep it much longer. For the last few weeks it has 
 seemed I'd drop on the floor where you stood to-day, and 
 every night I've had harder work to climb these stairs. Oh, 
 Lord ! I wish mother and I could both stay here now till 
 we're carried down together feet foremost." 
 
 "Don't talk that way," pleaded Belle, beginning to cry 
 again. ' ' We' 11 all do for you now, and you both will get 
 better. ' ' 
 
 " Who's ' we all ' ? Would you mind telling me a little 
 about who you are, and how you came to get my place ?" 
 
 Belle's brief sketch of herself, her history, and how the 
 recent events had come about, was very simple, but strong 
 and original, and left no doubt in her listener's mind. 
 
 " My gracious !" Clara cried, as the room darkened, 
 ' ' your folks' 11 be wild about you. I' ve nothing to offer you 
 but your own, and I've kept you talking when you must 
 have been tired and hungry, but you are so full of life that 
 you put a bit of life in me. It's ages since I felt as you do, 
 and I'll never feel so again. Now run home with your mind 
 at rest. You have done us more good than you have harm, 
 and you never meant us any harm at all." 
 
 " Indeed I did not," cried Belle, " but I'm not through 
 with you yet. I'll bring Millie back with me and a lot of 
 things," and she darted away. 
 
 The inmates of the two rooms at the Old Mansion were, 
 indeed, anxious over Belle' s prolonged absence. Her father
 
 "/ BELIEVE IN YOU." 189 
 
 had gone to the shop ; Mrs. Wheaton, with her apron thrown 
 over her head, was on the sidewalk with Mildred, peering up 
 and down through the dusk, when the half-breathless girl 
 appeared. 
 
 Her story was soon told, and Mrs. Wheaton was taken 
 into their confidence. From trembling apprehension on 
 Belle's behalf, kind Mrs. Jocelyn was soon deep in sympathy 
 foi the poor woman and her daughter, and offered to go her 
 self and look after them, but Mildred and Mrs. Wheaton 
 took the matter into their own hands, and Belle, after gulp 
 ing down a hasty supper, was eager to return as guide. 
 Mr. Jocelyn, who had returned from the closed store on a 
 run, had so far recovered from his panic concerning his child 
 that he said he would bring a physician from the dispensary, 
 and, taking the number, went to do his part for those who 
 had become "neighbors unto them." A woman on the 
 same floor offered to look after Mrs. Wheaton' s children for 
 an hour or two, and the two sisters and the stout English 
 woman, carrying everything they could think of to make the 
 poor creatures comfortable, and much that they could ill 
 spare, started on their errand of mercy. It never occurred to 
 them that they were engaged in a charity or doing a good 
 deed. They were simply following the impulses of their 
 hearts to help those of whose sore need they had just learned. 
 Mildred panted a little under her load before she reached the 
 top of those long, dark stairs. ' ' I could never get to heaven 
 this way, ' ' muttered Belle, upon whom the day of fatigue 
 and excitement was beginning to tell. " It't up, up, up, 
 till you feel like pitching the man who built these steps head 
 first down 'em all. It's Belle, Clara," she said, after a brief 
 knock at the door ; then entering, she added, " I told you 
 I'd come back soon with help for you." 
 
 "I'm sorry I've nothing to make a light with," Clara 
 answered ; "the moon has been so bright of late that we did
 
 190 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 without light, and then I got all out of money. We either 
 had to pay the rent or go into the street, unless some one 
 took us in. Besides, mother was too sick to be moved. 
 
 " I've brought two candles," said Mrs. Wheaton. 
 ' ' They' re heasier managed hon a ' ot night, ' ' and she soon 
 had one burning on the table and another on the mantel. 
 " I vant to see vat's to be done," she continued, " because 
 I must give yer a 'arty lift hin a jiffey and be back to my 
 children hagain. ' ' Then going to the sick woman she took 
 her hand and felt her pulse. " 'Ow do yer find yerself, 
 mum ?' ' she asked. 
 
 " Oh, I'm much better I shall get well now," the 
 poor soul gasped, under the strange hallucination of that 
 disease which, although incurable, ever promises speedy 
 health to its victims. 
 
 " That's splendid ; that's the way to talk," cried Belle, 
 who had been oppressed with the fear that the woman would 
 die, and that she in some sense would be to blame. " Clara, 
 this is sister Millie that I told you about," and that was all 
 the introduction the two girls ever had. 
 
 " Vy didn't you send yer mother to a 'ospital?" Mrs. 
 Wheaton asked, joining the girls at the table. 
 
 "Don't say 'hospital' so mother can hear you. The 
 very word would kill her now, for there's nothing on earth 
 she dreads more than that they'll separate us and send her to 
 a hospital. I've sometimes thought it would have been best, 
 and then it seemed it would kill her at once, she was so op 
 posed to it. That we might keep together and to buy her 
 delicacies I've parted with nearly everything in the room, as 
 you see," and it was bare indeed. A bed from which the 
 element of comfort had long since departed, two rickety 
 chairs, a pine table, a rusty stove, and a few dishes and cook 
 ing utensils were about all there was left. With eyes slowly 
 dilating Mildred took in the bleak truth, but said only a few
 
 ' / BELIEVE IN YOU." 191 
 
 gentle words and was very busy. She lifted Mrs. Bute's 
 head, while Clara gave her a little bread soaked in wine, and 
 then aided Mrs. Wheaton in making the room and bed a 
 little more like what they should be by means of the articles 
 they had brought. Clara wonderingly saw that her little 
 closet was stocked with supplies for days to come. Her 
 mother's preternaturally brilliant eyes followed every move 
 ment, also, with a dumb but eager questioning. Tired Belle 
 in the mean time had drawn a chair to the table, and with her 
 head resting on her arms had dropped asleep in a moment. 
 
 ' ' Why should your sister work in a store if you' re not 
 poor?" Clara asked Mildred. "You can't be poor and 
 spare all these things." 
 
 " Yes, we're poor, but not so poor as you are," said Mil 
 dred simply. " Belle touched our hearts in your behalf, 
 and we see you need a little neighborly help. " 
 
 " Well, I was never so mistaken in any one in my life," 
 Clara exclaimed, looking at the sleeping girl, with a remorse 
 ful gush of tears. " There isn't a bad streak in her." 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and two girls, who had 
 been Clara's companions at the shop, appeared with a few 
 meagre parcels. Before asking them in she pulled them 
 back in the hall and there were a few moments of eager whis 
 pering. Then they all came in and looked at Belle, and 
 Clara stooped down and kissed her lightly, at which the girl 
 smiled and murmured, " Deai little mother always brood 
 ing over her chicks. 
 
 " She thinks she's home," explained Mildred, with moist 
 eyes. 
 
 ' ' This is her sister, ' ' said Clara, ' ' and this lady is a friend 
 of theirs. I know they' ve robbed themselves, they' ve brought 
 so much." 
 
 " Vun's honly ter come to Hameriker ter be a lady," 
 chuckled Mrs. Wheaton under her breath.
 
 192 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " We won't wake your sister," said one of the girls. 
 " She's tired, and no wonder. We haven't treated her right 
 at the store, but we wasn't to blame, for we didn't know her 
 at all. Please tell her that we'll give her a different reception 
 to-morrow, " and after another season of whispering in the 
 hall they departed, leaving the simple offerings gleaned from 
 their poverty. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn and the physician soon appeared, and after a 
 brief examination the latter called Mr. Jocelyn aside and 
 said, " Her pulse indicates that she may die at any hour. 
 There is no use in trying to do anything, for the end has 
 come. It has probably been hastened by lack of proper food, 
 but it's too late now to give much, for there is no power of 
 assimilation. ' ' 
 
 " You had better tell the poor girl the truth, then," said 
 Mr. Jocelyn. 
 
 Clara was called, and heard the verdict with a short, con 
 vulsive sob, then was her weary, quiet self again. " I 
 feared it was so," was all she said. She now became aware 
 that Mildred stood beside her with an encircling and sustain 
 ing arm. "Don't," she whispered; "don't be too kind 
 or I' 11 break down utterly, and I don' t want to before mother. 
 She don't know she never will believe she can die, and I 
 don't want her to know. I'll have time enough to cry after 
 she' s gone. 
 
 " I feel I must stay vith yer to-night," warm-hearted Mrs. 
 Wheaton began ; " and if Miss Jocelyn vill look hafter my 
 children I vill." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Wheaton," said Mildred decidedly, "I'm 
 going to stay. You ought to be with your children. Don't 
 tell Belle, papa, and take the poor child home. Clara and 
 I can now do all that can be done. Please don' t say any 
 thing against it, for I know I'm right," she pleaded earnestly 
 in answer to her father' s look of remonstrance.
 
 "/ BELIEVE IN YOU." 193 
 
 ' ' Very well, then, I' 11 return and stay with you, ' ' he said. 
 
 The physician's eyes dwelt on Mildred's pale face in strong 
 admiration as he gave her a few directions. " That's right, 
 Millie, make her well for mercy's sake or I'll have the hor 
 rors, ' ' Belle whispered as she kissed her sister good-night. 
 
 Soon Clara and Mildred were alone watching the gasping, 
 fitful sleeper. "After all that's been done for me to 
 night I'll surely get well," she had murmured, and she 
 closed her eyes without an apparent doubt of recovery. 
 
 Mildred furtively explored the now dimly lighted room. 
 "Merciful Heaven," she sighed, " shall we ever come to 
 this?" Clara's eyes were fixed on her mother's face with 
 pathetic intensity, watching the glimmer of that mysterious 
 thing we call life, that flickered more and more faintly. The 
 difference between the wasted form, with its feeble animation, 
 and what it must soon become would seem slight, but to the 
 daughter it would be wide indeed. Love could still answer 
 love, even though it was by a sign, a glance, a whisper only ; 
 but when to the poor girl it would be said of her mother, 
 " She's gone," dim and fading as the presence had been, 
 manifested chiefly by the burdens it imposed, its absence 
 would bring the depths of desolation and sorrow. 
 
 Going the poor creature evidently was, and whither ? The 
 child she was leaving knew little of what was bright and 
 pleasant in this world, and nothing of the next. " Miss 
 Jocelyn," she began hesitatingly. 
 
 ' ' Don' t call me Miss Jocelyn ; I' m a working-girl like 
 yourself." 
 
 " Millie, then, as Belle said ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Millie, do you believe in a heaven?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What is it like ?" 
 
 " I don't know very well. It's described to us under every
 
 1 94 IV I THO UT A HOME. 
 
 grand and beautiful image the world affords. I think we'll 
 find it what we best need to make us happy. 
 
 " Oh, then it would be rest for mother and me," the girl 
 sighed wearily. 
 
 " It's surely rest," Mildred replied quickly, " for I re 
 member a place in the Bible where it says, ' There remaineth 
 a rest for the people of God. ' ' 
 
 " That's it," said Clara with some bitterness ; " it's always 
 the people of God. What remains for such as we, who have 
 always been so busy fighting the wolf that we've thought little 
 of God or church ?" 
 
 " You've been no poorer, Clara, than Christ was all His 
 life, and were He on earth now as He was once, I' d bring 
 Him here to your room. He'd come, too, for He lived 
 among just such people as we are, and never once refused to 
 help them in their troubles or their sins." 
 
 " Once once," cried Clara, with a gush of tears. 
 " Where is He now ?" 
 
 " Here with us. I know it, for we need Him. Our need 
 is our strongest claim one that He never refused. I have 
 entreated Him in your behalf and your mother's, and do you 
 ask Him also to put heaven at the end of this dark and oiten 
 thorny path which most of us must tread in this world. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, Millie, Millie, I'm ignorant as a heathen. I did have 
 a Bible, but I sold even that to buy wine to save mother's 
 life. I might better have been thinking of saving her soul. 
 She's too sick to be talked to now, but surely she ought to 
 find at least a heaven of rest. You could never understand 
 the life she's led. She hasn't lived she's just been dragged 
 through the world. She was born in a tenement-house. 
 The little play she ever had was on sidewalks and in the gut 
 ters ; she's scarcely ever seen the country. Almost before 
 she knew how to play she began to work. When she was 
 only seventeen a coarse, bad man married her. How it ever
 
 "/ BELIEVE IN YOU." 195 
 
 came about I never could understand. I don't believe he 
 knew anything more of love than a pig ; for he lived like 
 one and died like one, only he didn't die soon enough. It 
 seems horrible that I should speak in this way of my father, 
 and yet why should I not, when he was a horror to me ever 
 since I can remember ? Instead of taking care of mother, 
 she had to take care of him. He'd take the pittance she 
 had wrung from the washtub for drink, and then come back 
 to repay her for it with blows and curses. I guess we must 
 have lived in fifty tenements, for we were always behind with 
 the rent and so had to move here and there, wherever we 
 could get a place to put our heads in. Queer places some 
 of them were, I can tell you mere rat-holes. They served 
 one purpose, though they finished off the children. To all 
 mother's miseries and endless work was added the anguish 
 of child-bearing. They were miserable, puny, fretful little 
 imps, that were poisoned off by the bad air in which we lived, 
 and our bad food that is, when we had any after they had 
 made all the trouble they could. I had the care of most of 
 them, and my life became a burden before I was seven years 
 old. I used to get so tired and faint that I was half glad 
 when they died. At last, when mother became so used up 
 that she really couldn' t work any more, father did for us the 
 one good act that I know anything about he went off on 
 a big spree that finished him. Mother and I have clung 
 together ever since. We've often been hungry, but we've 
 never been separated a night. What a long night is coming 
 now, in which the doctor says we shall be parted !" and the 
 poor girl crouched on the floor where her mother could not 
 see her should she open her eyes, and sobbed convulsively. 
 
 Mildred did not try to comfort her with words, but only 
 with caresses. Christ proved centuries ago that the sympa 
 thetic touch is healing. 
 
 " Oh, Millie, I seem to feel the gentle stroke of your hand
 
 196 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 on my heart as well as on my brow, and it makes the pain 
 easier to bear. It makes me feel as if the coarse, brutal life 
 through which I've come did not separate me from one so 
 good and different as you are ; for though you may be poor, 
 you are as much of a lady as any I've ever waited on at the 
 store. And then to look at your father and to think of mine. 
 I learned to hate men even when a child, for nearly all I ever 
 knew either abused me or tempted me ; but, Millie, you 
 need not fear to touch me. I never sold myself, though I've 
 been faint with hunger. I'm ignorant, and my heart's been 
 full of bitterness, but I' m an honest girl. ' ' 
 
 " Poor, poor Clara !" said Mildred brokenly, " my heart 
 aches for you as I think of all you've suffered." 
 
 The girl sprang up, seized the candle, and held it to Mil 
 dred's face. " My God," she whispered, " you are crying 
 over my troubles. ' ' Then she looked steadfastly into the 
 tearful blue eyes and beautiful face of her new friend for a 
 moment, and said, " Millie, I'll believe any faith _>>#'// teach 
 me, for I believe inyou."
 
 BELLE JARS THE "SYSTEM. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 BELLE JARS THE "SYSTEM." 
 
 SOME orthodox divines would have given Clara a version 
 of the story of life quite different from that which she re 
 ceived from Mildred. Many divines, not orthodox, would have 
 made the divergence much wider. The poor girl, so bruised 
 in spirit and broken in heart, was not ready for a system of 
 theology or for the doctrine of evolution ; and if any one 
 had begun to teach the inherent nobleness and self-correcting 
 power of humanity, she would have shown him the door, 
 feeble as she was. But when Mildred assured her that if 
 Christ were in the city, as He had been in Capernaum, He 
 would climb the steep, dark stairs to her attic room and say 
 to her, " Daughter, be of good comfort" when she was 
 told that Holy Writ declared that He was the " same yester 
 day, to-day, and forever" her heart became tender and con 
 trite, and therefore ready for a Presence that is still ' ' seeking 
 that which was lost. ' ' 
 
 Men may create philosophies, they may turn the Gospel 
 itself into a cold abstraction, but the practical truth remains 
 that the Christ who saves, comforts, and lifts the intolerable 
 burden of sorrow or of sin, comes now as of old comes as 
 a living, loving, personal presence, human in sympathy, 
 divine in power. As Mildred had said, our need and our 
 consciousness of it form our strongest claim upon Him and 
 the best preparation for Him. 
 
 Clara was proving the truth of her words. Life could
 
 1 9 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 never be to her again merely a bitter, sullen struggle for 
 bread. A great hope was dawning, and though but a few 
 rays yet quivered through the darkness, they were the earnest 
 of a fuller light. 
 
 Before midnight Mr. Jocelyn joined the watchers, and 
 seated himself unobtrusively in a dusky corner of the room. 
 Clara crouched on the floor beside her mother, her head 
 resting on the bed, and her hand clasping the thin fingers oi 
 the dying woman. She insisted on doing everything the pool 
 creature required, which was but little, for it seemed that life 
 would waver out almost imperceptibly. Mildred sat at the 
 foot of the bed, where her father could see her pure profile in 
 the gloom. To his opium-kindled imagination it seemed 
 to have a radiance of its own, and to grow more and more 
 luminous until, in its beauty and light, it became like the 
 ountenance of an accusing angel ; then it began to recede 
 rftil it appeared infinitely far away. "Millie," he called, 
 in deep apprehension. 
 
 ' ' What is it, papa ?' ' she asked, springing to his side and 
 putting her hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Oh !" he said, shudderingly. " I had such a bad 
 dream ! You seemed fading away from me, till I could no 
 longer see your face. It was so horribly real !" 
 
 She came and sat beside him, and held his hand in both of 
 hers. ' ' That' s right, ' ' he remarked ; ' ' now my dreams will 
 be pleasant" 
 
 " You didn't seem to be asleep, papa," said the girl, in 
 some surprise ; " indeed, you seemed looking at mo 
 fixedly. ' ' 
 
 " Then I must have been asleep with my eyes open," he 
 answered, with a trace of embarrassment 
 
 " Poor papa, you are tired, and it's very, very kind of you 
 to come and stay with me, but I wasn't afraid. Clara says 
 its a respectable house, and the people, though very poor,
 
 BELLE JARS THE "SYSTEM." 199 
 
 are quiet and well behaved. Now that you have seen that we 
 are safe, please go home and rest, ' ' and she coaxed until he 
 complied, more from fear that he would betray himself than 
 from any other motive. 
 
 In the deep hush that falls on even a great city before the 
 early life of the next day begins, Mrs. Bute opened her eyes 
 and called, " Clara !" 
 
 1 ' Right here, momsy, dear, holding your hand. ' ' 
 
 " It's strange I can't see you I feel so much better, 
 too sort of rested. It does seem now as if I might get 
 a little rest. Don't wake me child to give me any 
 thing and rest yourself. ' ' 
 
 She smiled faintly as she closed her eyes, and very soon 
 Clara could never wake her again. Mildred took the head 
 of the orphan into her lap, and the poor girl at last sobbed 
 herself to sleep. 
 
 We will not attempt to follow Mildred's thoughts as she 
 tried to keep up through the long hours. The murmured 
 words, " I would watch more patiently over Vinton Arnold, 
 did not his proud mother stand between us," suggests the 
 .character of some of them. At last, when she was faint from 
 weariness, she heard steps coming up the stairs, and her 
 mother entered, followed by Mrs. Wheaton. 
 
 ' ' My dear, brave child, this is too much for you. I'd rather 
 it had been myself a thousand times, ' ' Mrs. Jocelyn exclaimed. 
 
 " It's ail right, mamma, but the sight of you and good 
 Mrs. Wheaton is more welcome than I can tell you, for I 
 was getting very lonely and tired. ' ' 
 
 " I'll stay now hand tend ter heverything, " said Mrs. 
 Wheaton, with a stout, cheery kindness that could not be 
 disguised even in her whisper ; but Clara awoke with a start 
 and said, " What is it, momsy ?" 
 
 Then she sprang up, and after a brief glance at her mother 
 threw herself with a long, low cry on the lifeless form.
 
 200 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Leave hall ter me," said Mrs. Wheaton decidedly, 
 " hand take Miss Jocelyn 'ome, for this' 11 be too much for 
 'er." 
 
 " Ah, mamma dear," sobbed Mildred, " my heart would 
 be broken indeed if that were you." 
 
 " Millie, if you love me, come home at once," Mrs. Joce 
 lyn urged. It was quit* light when they gained the street, 
 and after reaching home Mildred was given a warm cup of 
 tea, and left to sleep until late in the day. While she slept, 
 however, there occurred some rather stirring scenes. 
 
 Belle, too, slept rather late, but a portentous gloom came 
 into her eyes when told that Mrs. Bute was dead. She did 
 not say very much, but her young face grew older and very 
 resolute while she hastily ate her breakfast. Then she car 
 ried something nice to Clara, and found that Mrs. Wheaton 
 had left, a neighbor from the tall tenement having taken her 
 place. 
 
 Belle looked at the bereaved girl with half-fearful eyes as 
 if she expected reproaches, and when Clara kissed her in 
 greeting she said " Don't" so sharply as to excite surprise. 
 
 " Belle," said Clara gently, " mother's at rest." 
 
 "That's more than I am," muttered the girl. "Oh, 
 Clara, I didn' t mean to bring all this trouble on you. That 
 man just caught me in a trap." 
 
 ' ' Belle, Belle ! why do you blame yourself for all this ? 
 It would have come just the same, and probably just as 
 soon, and if it hadn't been for you I'd been alone, with no 
 friends and no hope. " 
 
 " Oh, don't talk to me!" Belle cried; "your mother 
 might have been alive if I hadn't taken your place. I want 
 to see her." 
 
 Clara turned back the covering, and the young girl looked 
 at the dead face with a stern, frowning brow. 
 
 " Starved !" she muttered. " I understand why they all
 
 BELLE JARS THE "SYSTEM." 20 
 
 looked so black at me now ; but why couldn' t some one have 
 told me ? He shall know the truth for once ; he's more to 
 blame than I," and she abruptly departed. 
 
 Very little later the foreman of the shop on Sixth Avenue 
 was astonished to see her passing hastily toward the private 
 office, regardless of the looks of surprise and interest turned 
 toward her on every side, for the events of the night had been 
 very generally whispered around. 
 
 " Mr. Schriven's engaged," he said sharply. " What do 
 you want ? Why are you not in your place ?' ' 
 
 ' ' I am in my place, but you are not. Stand aside, for 1 
 will see Mr. Schriven at once." 
 
 ' ' I tell you some one is with him. ' ' 
 
 " I don't care if the king's with him," and darting on one 
 side she reached the office door, and knocked so sharply that 
 the ireful potentate within sprang up himself to see who the 
 inconsiderate intruder was. 
 
 " Oh, it's you," he said, half inclined to laugh in spite of 
 his anger. ' ' I thought I said that, if I employed you, you 
 were not to come to my office again unless I sent for you ?" 
 
 "I'm not in your employ." 
 
 " Indeed ! How's that ?" he asked very sharply. 
 
 " That is just what I've come to explain," was the un 
 flinching reply. 
 
 " By-by," remarked Mr. Schriven's visitor maliciously; 
 " I see you are to be interviewed." 
 
 " Very briefly, I assure you. Good-morning. Now, 
 miss, I give you about one minute to transact your business 
 with me, then the cashier will pay you for two days' work." 
 
 "No, sir, he will not. Do you think I'd take money 
 stained with blood ?" 
 
 ' ' What do you mean ? What kind of a girl are you any 
 way ?" 
 
 " I'm an honest girl ; I believe in God and the devil I
 
 202 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 believe in them both too well to have anything more to do 
 with you unless you can prove you didn't know any more 
 than I did. You think to frighten me with black looks, but 
 I've just come from a greater presence than yours the pres 
 ence of one who'll soon be your master Death, and death 
 for which you are responsible. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Good God ! what do you mean ?' ' 
 
 " What did you mean by turning off without a word a 
 poor girl one who for years had done her best for you ? 
 What did you mean by making a place for me in that way ? 
 Her mother died last night starved and I' d have you know 
 that I'd have starved before I'd have taken her place had I 
 known what I know now. Go look at your work at the top 
 of a tenement-house ! There's more flesh on your arm than 
 on that dead woman's body, and the poor girl herself hadn't 
 eaten anything for two days when she came here last night. 
 She'd have died, too, if sister Millie hadn't stayed with her 
 last night. I hope you didn't know any more than I did. 
 If you did you've got to settle with God and the devil before 
 you're through with this kind of business." 
 
 The man was frightened, for he had meant no deliberate 
 cruelty. He was only practising the sound political econ 
 omy of obtaining the most for the least, but in the words and 
 stern face of the child he saw how his act must appear to a 
 mind unwarped by interest and unhardened by selfish years. 
 Moreover, he could not bluster in the presence of death, and 
 the thought that his greed had caused it chilled his heart with 
 a sudden dread. He caught at the extenuation her words 
 suggested, and said gravely, " You are right ; I did not 
 know. I would send food from my own table rather than 
 any one should go hungry. I knew nothing about this girl, 
 and no one has told me of her need until this moment. A 
 man at the head of a great business cannot look after details. 
 The best he can do is to manage his business on business
 
 BELLE JARS THE " SYSTEM." 203 
 
 principles. To prove that I'm sincere, I'll take the girl 
 back again at her old wages, although I do not need her." 
 
 The man lied in giving a false impression. It was true 
 that he did not single out individuals as objects of intentional 
 cruelty, but his system was hard and remorseless, and crushed 
 like the wheels of Juggernaut, and he purposely shut his 
 eyes to all questions and consequences save those of profit 
 and loss. When compelled to face, through Belle's eyes, 
 an instance of the practical outcome of his system, he shud 
 dered and trembled, for the moment, and was inclined to 
 ease his conscience by a little ostentatious kindness, especial 
 ly as the facts in the case bade fair to become known. Men 
 who, unlike Belle, have little fear of God or the devil, do 
 fear public opinion. The girl interpreted him, however, 
 after her own warm, guileless heart, and in strong revulsion 
 of feeling said, tearfully, " Please forgive me, sir, for speak 
 ing as I have. I've done you wrong, and I acknowledge i*i 
 frankly, but I was almost beside myself. We didn' t either 
 of us mean them any harm." 
 
 The man could not repress a smile at Belle's association of 
 herself with him in the guilt of the affair. In fact, he rather 
 liked the idea, for it made his own part seem quite venial 
 after all an error of ignorance like that of the child's so 
 Ke said kindly, " Indeed, we did not, and now we'll make 
 amends. You go and see what is needed and let me know, 
 and to-morrow, if you wish, you can take your own place 
 and not any one' s else. You are a smart, good-hearted girl, 
 and by and by I can give you better wages." 
 
 " I did you wrong, sir," repeated Belle remorsefully, 
 ' ' and now that you will take Clara back, I' d work for you 
 almost for nothing. When and where shall I come?" she 
 added humbly ; " I don't wish to seem rude any more." 
 
 " Come to my house this evening," and he gave her his 
 number.
 
 204 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " I beg your pardon for what I said. Good-by, sir," 
 and with tearful eyes and downcast face she went to the 
 street, without a glance on either side. 
 
 The man sat for a few moments with a heavily contracting 
 brow. At last he strecthed out his hand and sighed, "I'd 
 give all there is in this store if my heart was like that girl's, 
 but here I am at this hour engaged in a transaction which is 
 the devil's own bargain, and with a firm that can't help itself 
 because it is in my power. Hang it all ! business is busi 
 ness ; I'll lose a cool thousand unless I carry it through as 
 I've begun." He seized his pen and carried it through. 
 
 Belle, attended by her father, was not in the least abashed 
 by the elegance of Mr. Schriven's parlor, as he had rather 
 hoped she would be, but he was much impressed by Mr. 
 Jocelyn's fine appearance and courtly bearing. " No won 
 der the girl's course has been peculiar," he thought. " She 
 comes from no common stock. If I've ever seen a Southern 
 gentleman, her father's one, and her plump little body is full 
 of hot Southern blood. She's a thoroughbred, and that ac 
 counts for her smartness and fearlessness. Where other girls 
 would whine and toady to your face, and be sly and catlike 
 behind your back, she'd look you in the eyes and say all she 
 meant point-blank. I'm glad indeed things are taking their 
 present course, for these people could make any man trou 
 ble, ' ' and he treated his guests very suavely. 
 
 Belle soon told her story in a straightforward manner. 
 One. of her generous projects was to have a rather grand 
 funeral, with all the girls in the shop attending in a proces 
 sion. " What a child she is !" thought Mr. Schriven, with 
 difficulty repressing a laugh, but he proceeded very gravely 
 to induce the girl to take his own practical view. 
 
 "In the first place, my child, " he said, " that woman 
 died of consumption she didn't starve at all." 
 
 ' ' I think she died the sooner, ' ' Belle faltered.
 
 BELLE JARS THE 'SYSTEM." 205 
 
 " Possibly. If so, she was the sooner out of her misery. 
 At any rate we are not to blame, since, as you said, we 
 didn' t know. Now a funeral, such as you suggest, would 
 be very costly, and would do no one any good. It would 
 scarcely be in good taste, for, considering the poor woman's 
 circumstances, it would be ostentatious." 
 
 ' ' Belle, Mr. Schriven is right, ' ' said her father, in a tone 
 of quiet authority. 
 
 ' ' Let us rather consider the need of the daughter, ' ' Mr. 
 Schriven resumed. ' ' You say she is worn and weak from 
 watching and work. A quarter of the money that a funeral 
 would cost would give her two or three weeks in the coun 
 try. And now," he concluded impressively his con 
 science needed a little soothing, and his purse was plethoric 
 with the thousand dollars wrung from those who had the mis 
 fortune to be in his power " I will pay her board at some 
 quiet farm-house for three weeks, and then she' 11 come back 
 fresh and strong to her old place. ' ' 
 
 Belle's eyes filled with tears of gladness. " You are right, 
 sir, and you are very kind and generous. I know just the 
 place for her to go the people we've been with all summer. 
 They are kind, and will do everything for her, and take away 
 her strange- feeling at once. Oh, I'm so glad it's all ending 
 so much better than I feared ! I thought this morning I 
 could never be happy again, but you've made all seem so 
 different and hopeful. I thank you, sir, over and over, and 
 I'll do my best now at the store, and be respectful to every 
 one." 
 
 The man was touched. The warm, reflected glow of the 
 girl's heart softened for a moment his own icy organ, and his 
 eyes grew moist momentarily. ' ' You are a good child, ' ' 
 he said. "Here are thirty-five dollars for your friend, for 
 you've been a friend to her indeed. Most girls would have 
 let them starve for all they cared. Now send the girl off to
 
 206 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the country, and as soon as I can I'll raise your wages to five 
 dollars. I'd do it now, only the others would talk and say 
 it wasn't customary to pay beginners so highly. Mr. Joce- 
 lyn, I congratulate you on the possession of such a daughter, 
 and I sincerely hope you may soon retrieve your fortunes and 
 regain the position to which I see that you both naturally 
 belong," and he bowed them out with a politeness and re 
 spect that were not by any means assumed. 
 
 Belle almost danced home by her father's side, so great 
 was the rebound of her depressed feelings. Thirty-five dol 
 lars ! How much that would do for poor Clara ! Millie 
 would help her make up her mourning, and she would have 
 nothing to pay for but the material. She would write to 
 Mrs. Atwood that very night, and to Roger, telling him he 
 must be kind to Clara, and take her out to drive. Her heart 
 fairly bubbled over with plans and projects for the girl whose 
 ' ' place she had taken. ' ' 
 
 Th^ poor child had scarcely begun her letter to Mrs. At 
 wood before her head drooped, and Mildred said, "Tell 
 me v .iat to say, Belle, and I'll write it all. You've done 
 your part to-day, and done it well. ' ' 
 
 " That's good of you, Millie. When I get sleepy it's no 
 vse to try to do anything. I'd go to sleep if the house was 
 >;? fire. But you won't write to Roger, I'm afraid." 
 No. If he must be written to, you must do that." 
 
 "Well, I will to-morrow. He'll do Clara more good 
 than all the rest." 
 
 Our story passes hastily over the scenes that followed. A 
 brief service was held over Mrs. Bute's remains by a city 
 missionary, known to Mrs. Wheaton, who was present 
 with Mrs. Jocelyn, Belle, and Mildred. Three or four 
 neighbors from the tenement lent chairs and came in also. 
 The girls at the ribbon counter clubbed together and sent 
 an anchor of white flowers, and at the hour of the funeral
 
 BELLE JARS THE "SYSTEM." 207 
 
 they looked grave and were quiet in manner, thus taking part 
 in the solemnity in the only way they could. In due time the 
 city department upon which the duty devolved sent the 
 " dead wagon ;" the morsel of human clay was returned to 
 its kindred dust in " Potter's Field," a public cemetery on 
 Hart's Island, in which are interred all who die in the city 
 and whose friends are unable to pay for a grave or a burial 
 plot. Clara, however, had not the pain of seeing her mother 
 placed in the repulsive red box furnished by the department, 
 for Mr. Jocelyn sent a plain but tasteful coffin, with the 
 woman's age and name inscribed upon it 
 
 Mrs. Wheaton went with the girl to the grave, and then 
 brought her to her own little nook in the old mansion, for 
 Clara had said she had no relatives that she knew anything 
 about except a few on her father's side, and she had rather 
 goto a station-house than to them. "Don't talk habout 
 station 'ouses till yer can see vat I kin do for yer," the 
 good woman had said in her hearty way, and she did play 
 the good Samaritan so well, and poured the ' ' oil and wine' ' 
 of kindness into the poor creature's wounds so effectually, 
 that she began to change for the better daily. 
 
 Mildred redeemed Belle's promise, and between them all 
 they soon fitted Clara for her trip to the country. By the 
 time Mrs. Atwood's reply reached Mildred, and Roger's 
 hearty answer came back in response to Belle's characteristic 
 note, she was ready to go. "There's a man's hand for 
 you," cried Belle exultantly as she exhibited Roger's bold 
 chirography. "It's a hand that can be depended upon, 
 strong and ready." 
 
 Mildred smiled as she replied, " You' re welcome toil, 
 Belle." 
 
 "You needn't smile so placidly," she retorted, with an 
 ominous nod. "We are not through with Roger Atwood 
 yet."
 
 208 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Perhaps quotations from two letters written by Clavj, to 
 Mildred and Belle, and received a week later, will forri a 
 satisfactory ending to this chapter. Clara had been taught 
 to read and write in the public schools of the city, and but 
 little more. In later years she had occasionally found op 
 portunity to attend some of the night schools established for 
 those whose only leisure came after the busy day was over, 
 and so had learned to use her pen with tolerable correctness. 
 In waiting upon the educated people who frequented the 
 shop she had caught, with the aptness of an American girl, a 
 very fair power of expressing herself in speech. Writing a 
 letter, however, was a formidable affair, in which she had 
 scarcely any experience. Her missives, therefore, were very 
 simple, and somewhat defective in outward form, but they 
 suggested some interesting facts. 
 
 "DEAR MILLIE (ran the first) : I'm very sad and hapy. 
 The Countrys like heven. All are so kind. Even the dog 
 dosen't grole at me, and Mr. Roger says that's queer for he 
 groles at everybody. I feel so much better I don't know 
 myself. I feel like takin depe breths of air all the time and 
 I never tasted such milk. Every glass puts life in me. If I 
 can get work up here I'll never go back to town and stand 
 all day again. The girls up here have a chance to live they 
 haven't any chance at all in a store. The strongest will 
 brake down and then they are good for nothing. I wish 
 Belle could do something else. I wish thousands would go 
 in the country and do work that would make us look like 
 Susan. Mrs. Atwood thinks she can find me a place with 
 kind people, where I'll be treted almost like one of the fam 
 ily. Anyway I've had enough of standing and bad air and 
 starving and I don't see why working in a farmhouse ain't 
 just as ladylike as wating on folks with the floorwalker 
 awatchin you like a slave driver. Standing all day is deth ta
 
 BELLE JARS THE " S YS TEM. " 2 09 
 
 most girls and about the hardest deth they can die. I feel 
 as if I could live to be a hundred up here. 
 
 ' ' Millie, dear, I read the Bible you gave me and I pray 
 for you and Beile every night and morning and He answers. 
 I know it. I love you very much and I've good reason. 
 
 000(1 ^ -CLARA BUTE." 
 
 Her letter to Belle was more descriptive of her daily life, 
 of the kindness she received on every hand. One brief ex 
 tract from it will suffice : 
 
 "I've got well acquainted with Roger," she wrote. 
 " He's easy to get acquainted with. Now I think of it 
 though he says little or nothing about himself but he leads 
 me to talk and tell about you all in a way that surprises me. 
 If his interest was prying I'm sure I wouldn't have told 
 him anything. I know well now it isn't. Does Millie 
 know how he feels toward her ? I saw it all last night. I 
 was telling him about my past life and how poor and forlorn 
 we had been and how I had told Millie all about it and then 
 how Millie had just treted me as if I were as good as she 
 was. As I talked he became so white I thought he'd faint. 
 Suddenly he burst out despairingly, ' I hoped she was proud 
 but she isn't I could overcome pride. But what can I do 
 when I'm just detested? There, I've made a fool of my 
 self,' he said savagelike after a moment, and he hurried 
 away. For the last two days he's been so quiet and looked 
 so stern and sad that his family don't know what to make of 
 him, but I know what's the matter, and I feel sorry for him, 
 for he seems to me more like a man than any of the young 
 fellows I've seen in town. Don't tell Millie for I don't 
 want to even seem to meddle. ' ' 
 
 But Belle had no gift of reticence, and she not only showed 
 her sister the letter, but overwhelmed her with reproaches for
 
 2JO WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 her "heartless treatment of Roger." As a natural result 
 Mildred was only more irritated and prejudiced against the 
 young man than ever. 
 
 " You are all absurdly unreasonable, " she cried. " What 
 have I ever done to make him turn white or red, or to 
 'burst out despairingly,' and all that kind of sentimental 
 nonsense ? Because he is lackadaisical and is experiencing 
 strange, vague emotions, must I be afflicted in like manner ? 
 Must I break faith with one I do love and do violence to 
 my own feelings, just because this farmer wants me to ? 
 You know what' s the matter with him Clara saw at a glance 
 and the course I'm taking is the only way to cure him. 
 All his talk about friendship is transparent folly. If I took 
 your advice it would make him only more and more infatu 
 ated ; and now I haven't it on my conscience that I gave 
 him one bit of encouragement. I'm sorry for him, of 
 course. I shall be more sorry for his mother and sister if he 
 is guilty of the folly of leaving home. If, instead of doing 
 his duty by them, he comes mooning after me here, when he 
 knows it is of no use, I shall lose my respect for him utterly. ' ' 
 There seemed so much downright common-sense in this 
 view of the affair that even Belle found no words in reply. 
 Her reason took Mildred's part, but her warm little heart led 
 her to shake her head ominously at her sister, and then 
 sleepily she sought the rest her long, tiresome day required.
 
 SE VERAL Q UIE T FORCES A T WORK. 2 1 1 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SEVERAL QUIET FORCES AT WORK. 
 
 PRECIPITOUS ascents and descents do not constitute 
 the greater part of life's journey. In the experience of 
 very many they occur more or less frequently, but they con 
 duct to long intervals where the way is comparatively level, 
 although it may be flinty, rough, and hedged with thorns. 
 More often the upward trend or the decline of our paths 
 is so slight as not to be noticed as we pass on, but at the end 
 of years we can know well whether we are gaining or losing. 
 
 The Jocelyns, in common with thousands of others, had 
 made a swift descent from a position of comparative affluence 
 to one of real, though not repulsive, poverty. There was 
 nothing, however, in their fall that cast a shadow upon them 
 in the eyes of the world except as the unfortunate are always 
 1 ' under a cloud ' ' to the common herd that moves together 
 in droves only where the sunlight of prosperity falls. If Mr. 
 Jocelyn could regain his former position, or a better one, 
 there had been nothing in his brief obscurity that would pre 
 vent his wife and daughters from stepping back into their old 
 social place, with all its privileges and opportunities. 
 
 The reader knows, however, that his prospects were be 
 coming more and more dubious that each day added a 
 rivet to the chain that an evil habit was forging. His family 
 did not even suspect this, although the impression was grow 
 ing upon them that his health was becoming impaired. 
 They were beginning to accommodate themselves to life at
 
 212 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 its present level, and the sense of its strangeness was passing 
 slowly away. This was especially true of Belle and the chil 
 dren, upon whom the past had but a comparatively slight 
 hold. Mildred, from her nature and tastes, felt the change 
 more keenly than any of the others, and she could never for 
 get that it raised a most formidable barrier against her dearest 
 hopes. Mrs. Jocelyn also suffered greatly from the privations 
 of her present lot, and her delicate organization was scarcely 
 equal to the tasks and burdens it imposed. As far as possible 
 she sought to perform the domestic duties that were more 
 suited to the stout, red arms of those accustomed to such 
 labors. It seemed essential that Mildred and Belle should 
 give their strength to supplementing their father's small 
 income, for a time at least, though all were living in hope 
 that this necessity would soon pass away. The family was 
 American, and Southern at that, in the idea that bread-win 
 ning was not woman's natural province, but only one of the 
 direful penalties of extreme poverty. The working-woman 
 of the South belonged to a totally different class from that in 
 which Mr. and Mrs. Jocelyn had their origin, and prejudices 
 die hard, even among people who are intelligent, and, in 
 most respects, admirable. To Mrs. Jocelyn and her daugh 
 ters work was infinitely preferable to dependence, but it was 
 nevertheless menial and undignified because of its almost in 
 voluntary and hereditary association with a race of bond 
 servants. He is superficial indeed in his estimate of charac 
 ter who thinks that people can change their views and feelings 
 in response to a brief demonstration of the essential dignity 
 of labor, especially after generations of accumulating pride of 
 caste have been giving the mind a different bent. Moreover, 
 this family of Southern origin had not seen in the city of New 
 York very much confirmation of the boasted Northern ideas 
 of labor. Social status depended too much on the number 
 of servants that people kept and the style in which they lived.
 
 SEVERAL QUIET FORCES AT WORK. 213 
 
 Poverty had brought them a more sudden and complete loss 
 of recognition than would have been possible in the South 
 a loss which they would not have felt so greatly had they 
 wealthy connections in town through whom they might have 
 retained, in part at least, their old relations with people of 
 their own station. 
 
 As it was, they found themselves almost wholly isolated. 
 Mrs. Jocelyn did not regret this so much for herself, since 
 her family was about all the society she craved ; moreover in 
 her girlhood she had been accustomed to rather remote 
 plantation life, with its long intervals of absence of society. 
 Mr. Jocelyn' s business took him out among men even more 
 than he relished, for his secret indulgence predisposed to 
 solitude and quiet. He was living most of the time in an 
 unreal world, and inevitable contact with his actual life and 
 surroundings brought him increasing distress. 
 
 With Belle and Mildred it was different. At their age 
 society and recreation were as essential as air and light. 
 Many are exceedingly uncharitable toward working-girls be 
 cause they are often found in places of resort that are, with 
 out doubt, objectionable and dangerous. The fact is ignored 
 that these places are sought from a natural and entirely whole 
 some desire for change and enjoyment, which are as needful 
 to physical and moral health as sunlight to a plant. They 
 forget that these normal cravings of the young in their own 
 families find many and safe means of gratification which are 
 practically denied to the tenement population. If, instead 
 of harsh judgments, they would provide for the poor places 
 of cheap and innocent resort ; if, instead of sighing over in 
 nate depravity, they would expend thought and effort in bring 
 ing sunshine into the experiences of those whose lives are 
 deeply shadowed by the inevitable circumstances of their lot, 
 they would do far more to exemplify the spirit of Him who 
 has done so much to fill the world with light, flowers, and 
 music.
 
 214 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Mildred began to brood and grow morbid in her monoto 
 nous work and seclusion ; and irrepressible Belle, to whom 
 shop life was becoming an old, weary story, was looking 
 around for "pastures new." Her nature was much too 
 forceful for anything like stagnation. The world is full of 
 such natures, and we cannot build a dike of ' ' thou shalt 
 nots" around them ; for sooner or later they will overleap 
 the barriers, and as likely on the wrong side as on the right. 
 Those who would save and bless the world can accomplish 
 far more by making safe channels than by building embank 
 ments, since almost as many are ruined by undue and un 
 wise repression as by equally unwise and idiotic indulgence. 
 
 If Mr. Jocelyn had been himself he might have provided 
 much innocent and healthful recreation for his family ; but 
 usually he was so dreamy and stupid in the evening that he 
 was left to doze quietly in his chair. His family ascribed his 
 condition to weariness and reaction from his long strain of 
 anxiety ; and opium had already so far produced its legitimate 
 results that he connived at their delusion if he did not con 
 firm it by actual assertion. It is one of the diabolical quali 
 ties of this habit that it soon weakens and at last destroys all 
 truth and honor in the soul, eating them out with a corrosive 
 power difficult to explain. 
 
 For the first week or two Belle was glad to rest in the even 
 ings from the intolerable weariness caused by standing all day, 
 but the adaptability of the human frame is wonderful, and 
 many at last become accustomed, and, in some sense, inured 
 to that which was torture at first. Belle was naturally strong 
 and vigorous, and her compact, healthful organism endured 
 the cruel demand made upon it far better than the majority 
 of her companions. Nature had endowed her with a very 
 large appetite for fun. For a time her employment, with its 
 novelty, new associations, and small excitements, furnished 
 this, but now her duties were fading into prosaic work, and
 
 SE VERAL Q UIE T FORCES A T WORK. 2 1 5 
 
 the child was looking around for something enlivening. 
 Where in the great city could she find it ? Before their 
 poverty came there were a score of pretty homes like her own 
 in which she could visit schoolmates ; her church and Sab 
 bath-school ties brought her into relation with many of her 
 own age ; and either in her own home or in those of her 
 friends she took part in breezy little festivities that gave full 
 and healthful scope to her buoyant nature. She was not over- 
 fastidious now, but when occasionally she went home with 
 some of her companions at the shop, she returned dissatisfied. 
 The small quarters in which the girls lived rendered little 
 confidential chats so dear to girls impossible, and she was 
 brought at once into close contact with strange and often re 
 pulsive people. It seemed that the street furnished the only 
 privacy possible, except as she brought girls to her own 
 abode. Her mother and sister were very considerate in this 
 respect, and welcomed all of her acquaintances who appeared 
 like good, well-meaning girls ; and Mildred would either give 
 up her share of their little room for the time, or else take part 
 in their talk in such a genial way as to make the visitors at 
 home as far as they could be with one in whom they recog 
 nized their superior. Their light talk and shop gossip were 
 often exceedingly tiresome to Mildred, but she felt that Belle 
 needed every safeguard within their power to furnish. And 
 this privilege of welcoming the best companions her circum 
 stances permitted was of great help to Belle, and, for a time, 
 prevented her restless spirit from longing for something more 
 decided in the way of amusement. Of necessity, however, 
 anything so quiet could not last ; but where could the girl 
 find pleasures more highly colored ? Occasionally she would 
 coax or scold her father into taking her out somewhere, but 
 this occurred less and less frequently, for she was made to feel 
 that his health required absolute rest when his business per 
 mitted it. If she had had kind brothers the case would have
 
 2l5 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 been greatly simplified, but thousands of working-girls have 
 no brothers, no male companions save those acquaintances 
 that it is their good or, more often, their evil fortune to make. 
 Without a brother, a relative, or a friend deserving the name, 
 how is a young girl, restricted to a boarding-house or a 
 tenement, to find safe recreation ? Where can she go for it 
 on the great majority of the evenings of the year ? Books 
 and papers offer a resource to many, and Mildred availed 
 herself of them to her injury. After sitting still much of the 
 day she needed greater activity in the evening. Belle was 
 not fond of reading, as multitudes on the fashionable ave 
 nues are not. The well-to-do have many other resources 
 what chances had she ? To assert that working-girls ought 
 to crave profitable reading and just the proper amount of 
 hygienic exercise during their leisure, and nothing more, is 
 to be like the engineer who said that a river ought to have 
 been half as wide as it was, and then he could build a bridge 
 across it. The problem must be solved as it exists. 
 
 To a certain extent this need of change and cheerful recre 
 ation is supplied in connection with some of the mission 
 chapels, and the effort is good and most commendable as far 
 as it goes ; but as yet the family had formed no church re 
 lations. Mildred, Belle, and occasionally Mrs. Jocelyn had 
 attended Sabbath service in the neighborhood. They 
 shrank, however, so morbidly from recognition that they had 
 no acquaintances and had formed no ties. They had a prej 
 udice against mission chapels, and were not yet willing to 
 identify themselves openly with their poor neighbors. As 
 yet they had incurred no hostility on this account, for their 
 kindly ways and friendliness to poor Clara had won the 
 good -will and sympathy of all in the old mansion. But the 
 differences between the Jocelyns and their neighbors were 
 too great for any real assimilation, and thus, as we have said, 
 they were thrown mainly on their own resources. Mrs,
 
 SE VERAL Q UIE T FORCES A T WORK. 2 1 7 
 
 Wheaton was their nearest approach to a friend, and very 
 helpful she was to them in many ways, especially in relieving 
 Mrs. Jocelyn, for a very small compensation, from her 
 heavier tasks. The good woman, however, felt even more 
 truly than they thai they had too little in common for in 
 timacy. 
 
 There is one amusement always open to working-girls if 
 they are at all attractive the street flirtation. To their honor 
 it can be said that comparatively few of the entire number 
 indulge in this dangerous pastime from an improper motive, 
 the majority meaning no more harm or evil than their more 
 fortunate sisters who can enjoy the society of young men in 
 well - appointed parlors. In most instances this street ac 
 quaintance, although unhedged by safe restrictions, is by no 
 means indiscriminate. The young men are brothers or 
 friends of companions, or they are employed in the same 
 establishment, or else reside in the neighborhood, so that 
 usually something is known of their characters and antece 
 dents, and the desire to become friendly is similar to that in 
 fluencing the young people of country neighborhoods. As 
 a rule these young people have few opportunities of meeting 
 save in the streets and places of public resort. The conditions 
 of life in a great city, however, differ too widely from those of 
 a village or country town, where every one is well known and 
 public opinion is quick and powerful in its restraints. Social 
 circles are too loosely organized in a city ; their members 
 from necessity are generally too little known to each other ; 
 there are too many of both sexes ready to take advantage of 
 the innocent and unwary, and their opportunities of escape 
 from all penalty invite the crimes suggested by their evil 
 natures. Belle had been often warned, and she had so much 
 affection for her mother and so much pride that she did not 
 fall readily into indiscretions ; nor would she in the future re 
 spond, without considerable self-restraint, to the frequent
 
 2 1 8 Wl THO UT A HOME. 
 
 advances which she never failed to recognize, however distant 
 she might appear, and she would not have possessed a 
 woman's nature had she been indifferent to admiring glances 
 and the overtures of those who would gladly form her ac 
 quaintance. Still it must be admitted that her good resolu 
 tions were fast weakening in this direction. 
 
 Mildred's dangers were quite different from those which 
 assailed Belle, and yet they were very grave ones. Her mind 
 and heart were preoccupied. She was protected from even 
 the desire of perilous associations and pleasures by the deli 
 cacy and refinement of her nature and her Christian princi 
 ple. She shrank from social contact with the ruder world by 
 which she was now surrounded ; she felt and lived like one 
 in exile, and her hope was to return to her native land. In 
 the mean time she was growing pale, languid, morbid, and, 
 occasionally, even irritable, from the lack of proper exercise 
 and change. She was not discouraged as yet, but the day of 
 deliverance seemed to grow more distant. Her father ap 
 parently was declining in energy and health, and his income 
 was very small. She worked long hours over her fancy work, 
 but the prices paid for it at the shops were so small that she 
 felt with a growing despondency it was but a precarious means 
 of support. Their first month in the old mansion was draw 
 ing to a close, and they had been compelled to draw slightly 
 on the small sum of ready money still remaining after pay 
 ing for their summer's board. They still had a few articles 
 in storage, having retained them in hope of moving, at no 
 distant time, into more commodious quarters. 
 
 In their desire for economy they also fell into the very com 
 mon error of buying salt fish and meat, and other articles of 
 food that were cheap and easily prepared rather than nutri 
 tious, and Belle was inclined to make her lunch on pastry 
 and cake instead of food. In teaching them a better way 
 Mrs. Wheaton proved herself a very useful friend. " Vat
 
 SEVERAL QUIET FORCES AT WORK. 2 9 
 
 j-er vant is sumthink that makes blood an' stands by von, " 
 she had said ; " an' this 'ere salt, dry stuff an' light baker's 
 bread and tea and coffee don't do this hat hall. They's good 
 henough as relishes an' trimmins an' roundins hoff, but they 
 hain't got the nourishin' in 'em that vorking people vants. 
 Buy hoat meal an' corn meal make good bread of yer 
 hown. Buy good but cheap chunks of beef an' mutton an' 
 vegetables, an' make stews an' meat pies an' rich soups, an' 
 say yer prayers hagainst hall trashy things as hain't vorth the 
 trouble of heatin'. Heggs, too, ven they're plenty, hare 
 fust-rate, an' milk is better than so much tea an' coffee, heven 
 if the milkman do spill it in the brook an' pick it hout hagain 
 before ve get it. Vorkin' hon tea an' coffee is like keepin' 
 the ' orse hagoin' on a vip hinstead of hoats. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred were sensible enough to take 
 her advice, and although Belle complained at first over the 
 more simple and wholesome diet, she soon felt so much the 
 better for it that she made no further trouble. 
 
 As had been the case at the farm-house, Mildred at last 
 awakened to the evils of a depressed and sedentary life, and 
 felt that she must look around for objects of interest. She 
 began to spend more time with Mrs. Wheaton, and found 
 considerable amusement in her homely common-sense. 
 The good woman was all the more companionable for the 
 reason that she never presumed on a coarse familiarity or in 
 dulged in a prying interest. Mildred also aided the Whea 
 ton children in their lessons, and gave more time to her own 
 little brother and sister, taking them out to walk in the cool 
 of the day, and giving much thought, while she plied her 
 needle, to various little expedients that would keep them 
 content to remain away from the street and the rude children 
 that often made the old house resound with boisterous sport. 
 Mrs. Wheaton' s children were in the main well behaved, 
 and there was much visiting back and forth among the little
 
 220 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 people of the two families, but here the line was drawn, and 
 generally with very good reason. After all, perhaps, the chief 
 horror of tenement life to a family like the Jocelyns consisted 
 in the fact that just outside their door were hordes of prowl 
 ing little savages ignorant in the main of civilization, but 
 prematurely enlightened as to its vices. To prevent the in 
 evitable contamination which would result from indiscrimi 
 nate association, and to interest Fred and Minnie in their 
 daily lessons, was the constant effort of both Mildred and 
 Mrs. Jocelyn. And yet, as at the farm-house, Mildred's 
 conscience began to reproach her for keeping too much aloof 
 from the people who dwelt with her in the old mansion. It 
 was not necessary to make companions of them in order to 
 do them some good, and in aiding them to bear their burdens 
 she might in part forget her own. Mrs. Wheaton's hearty 
 kindness permeated the house like an atmosphere, and from 
 her Mildred learned the character and circumstances of each 
 family quite correctly. " I can get hon with 'em hall hex- 
 cept a hold daft German on the top floor, oos a bit crazy 
 hover the 'evens, but don't stand much chance of hever 
 gettin' hup hinto 'em. You've hoften seen 'ima-lookin' at 
 the stars an' things on the roof. 'E 'alf starves 'is family to 
 buy books an' maps an' a telescope. 'E 'ates me cos I 
 tried to talk religion to 'im vonce ven 'e vas sick, an' cos I 
 told 'im 'e 'ad no bizness to take his death a' cold on the 
 roof o' vinter nights ; an 'ven 'e vonce gets a grudge hagainst 
 yer 'e never lets hup." 
 
 Mildred had already become more interested in this old 
 man than in any other of her neighbors except Mrs. Whea- 
 ton, but had found him utterly unapproachable. Not in 
 frequently she spent part of the hot evenings on the platform 
 built over the old hip-roof, and had invariably seen him there 
 on cloudless nights studying the skies with a telescope that 
 appeared to be by no means a toy instrument ; but he always
 
 SEVERAL QUIET FORCES AT WORK. 221 
 
 took possession of the far end of the platform, and was so 
 savage when any one approached that even Belle was afraid 
 of him. His wife, for a wonder, was a slattern German, and 
 she spoke English very imperfectly. With her several small 
 children she lived in a chaotic way, keeping up a perpetual 
 whining and fault-finding, half under her breath from fear of 
 her irascible husband, that was like a ' ' continual dropping 
 on a very rainy day. ' ' Every now and then, Mrs. Wheaton 
 said, he would suddenly emerge from his abstraction and 
 break out against her in a volley of harsh, guttural German 
 oaths that were " henough to make von's 'air riz." There 
 fore it very naturally happened that Mildred had become ac 
 quainted with all the other families before she had even 
 spoken to Mr. or Mrs. Ulph. On the other inmates of the 
 mansion her influence soon began to be felt ; for almost un 
 consciously she exercised her rare and subtle power of intro 
 ducing a finer element into the lives of those who were grow 
 ing sordid and material. She had presented several families 
 with a small house-plant, and suggested that they try to de 
 velop slips from others that she sedulously tended in her own 
 window. In two or three instances she aided untidy and 
 discouraged women to make their rooms more attractive. The 
 fact, also, that the Jocelyns had made their two apartments, 
 that were little if any better than the others, so very inviting 
 had much weight, and there sprang up quite an emulation 
 among some of the simple folk in making the most of their 
 limited resources. 
 
 ' ' Instead of scolding your husbands for going out and per 
 haps taking a glass too much, try and keep them home by 
 making the living-room homelike," she had said on several 
 occasions to complaining wives who had paved the way by 
 their confidential murmurings. " Have some extra dish 
 that they like for supper they will spend more if they go 
 out then be a little smiling and chatty, and tell them to
 
 222 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 light their pipes and stay with you, for you are a bit lone 
 some. If they will have their mug of beer, coax them to 
 take it here at home. Try to put a few shillings in the 
 savings bank every week, and talk over little plans of saving 
 more. If you can only make your husbands feel that they 
 are getting ahead a little, it will have a great influence in 
 steadying them and keeping them out of bad company." 
 
 Mildred had a genius for everything relating to domestic 
 life, and an almost unbounded belief in good home influences. 
 Although she rarely talked religion directly to the people 
 whom she was trying to benefit she was much too diffident 
 and self-depreciative for this her regular attendance at some 
 place of worship on the Sabbath and her course toward poor 
 Mrs. Bute and her daughter had given the impression that 
 she was a very religious girl, and that her motives were Chris 
 tian in character. People's instincts are quick in discerning 
 the hidden springs of action ; and her influence was all the 
 more effective because she gave them the fruits of faith rather 
 than stems of exhortation on which they were required to de 
 velop fruit of their own. Much good fruit was eventually 
 produced, but more through her example, her spring-like in 
 fluence, than from any formal instruction.
 
 "HE'S A MAN." 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 "HE'S A MAN." 
 
 MRS. WHEATON, although she had the good taste to 
 ask few questions, was much puzzled over the Joce- 
 lyns. Mr. Jocelyn's state of health seemed to her very pe 
 culiar, and her shrewd, unprejudiced mind was approaching 
 Roger's conclusion, that he was a little " off." With an in 
 sight common to sound, thrifty people, she saw that the out 
 look for this family was dubious. She believed that the 
 father would become less and less of a reliance, that Mrs. 
 Jocelyn was too delicate to cope with a lower and grimmer 
 phase of poverty, which she feared they could not escape. 
 When alone she often shook her head in foreboding over 
 Belle's brilliant black eyes, being aware from long experi 
 ence among the poor how dangerous are such attractions, 
 especially when possessed by an impulsive and unbalanced 
 child. She even sighed more deeply and often over Mildred, 
 for she knew well that more truly than any of the house- 
 plants in the window the young girl who cared for them was 
 an exotic that might fade and die in the changed and un 
 favorable conditions of her present and prospective life. The 
 little children, too, were losing the brown and ruddy hues 
 they had acquired on the Atwood farm, and very naturally 
 chafed over their many and unwonted restrictions. 
 
 Nor did the city missionary whom she had called in to 
 attend Mrs. Bute's funeral illumine the Jocelyn problem for 
 the good woman. He was an excellent man, but lamentably
 
 224 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 deficient in tact, being prone to exhort on the subject of 
 religion in season, and especially out of season, and in 
 much the same way on all occasions. Since the funeral he 
 had called two or three times, and had mildly and rather 
 vaguely harangued Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred. Instead of 
 echoing his pious platitudes with murmurs of assent and ap 
 proval, they had been very polite, and also very reticent and 
 distant ; and Mr. Woolling that was his name had said in 
 confidence to Mrs. Wheaton that " they might be good 
 people, but he feared they were not yet altogether ' in the 
 light. ' They seemed a little cold toward the good cause, 
 and were not inclined to talk freely of their spiritual experi 
 ences and relations. Probably it was because they were not 
 altogether orthodox in their views." 
 
 It would seem that this worthy person had taken literally 
 the promise of his Master, ' ' I will make you fishers of men," 
 for he was quite content to be a fisher. Let us hope that 
 occasionally, as by a miracle, his lenient Master enabled him 
 to catch some well-disposed sinner ; but as a rule his man 
 nerism, his set phrases, his utter lack of magnetism and ap 
 preciation of the various shades of character with which he 
 was dealing, repelled even those who respected his motive 
 and mission. Sensitive, sad-hearted women like Mrs. Joce 
 lyn and Mildred could no more open their hearts to him 
 than to a benevolent and impersonal board of trustees sitting 
 around a green baize table? That detestable class, however, 
 who thrive on opening their hearts and dilating on their 
 spiritual experiences, could talk to him, as he would say, in 
 a " most edifying and godly manner," and through him, in 
 consequence, reap all the pecuniary advantages within his 
 power to bestow. 
 
 It is not the blatant and plausible poor who suffer, but 
 those who hide their poverty and will starve rather than trade 
 on their faith ; and too often Christian and charitable organi-
 
 "HE'S A MAN." 22$ 
 
 nations prove they are not the " children of this world " by 
 employing agents so lacking in fitness for the work that a 
 commercial firm, following a like policy, would soon com 
 pass its own failure. The Church deserves slight progress 
 if it fails to send its best and most gifted men and women 
 among the poor and vicious. Mr. Woolling was a sincere, 
 well-meaning man, but he no more knew how to catch men 
 with a Christ-like magnetism and guile than how to render 
 one of Beethoven's symphonies ; and he was so constituted 
 that he could never learn. It was an open question whether 
 he did not do more harm than good ; and those who em 
 ployed him might and ought to have known the fact. 
 
 Fortunately for the Jocelyns, there were other workers in 
 that part of the vineyard, and Mrs. Wheaton had said to her 
 self more than once, ' ' Ven my young lady comes ' ome she' 11 
 git 'old of these 'ere people and make things better for 'em." 
 One day, about the middle of September, there was a light 
 knock at the door of the large living-room that had been 
 made so inviting. Mildred opened it and admitted a young 
 woman, who appeared not very much older than herself, and 
 who she saw at a glance was of her own class in respect to 
 refinement and cultivation. Although entire strangers, the 
 eyes of the two girls met in woman's intuitive recognition. 
 
 " This is Miss Jocelyn, I think," said the visitor in an ac 
 cent that to the poor girl sounded like her native tongue, so 
 long unheard. 
 
 " You are correct," replied Mildred, with exploring eyes 
 and a quiet and distant manner. " Will you please be seat 
 ed, ' ' she added after a moment, as the young lady evidently 
 wished to enter. 
 
 It was in the afternoon, and the room had its usual pretty 
 order at that hour. Fred and Minnie were seated by Mrs. 
 Jocelyn, who was giving them their daily lesson from an 
 illustrated primer ; and they, with their mother, turned ques-
 
 226 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 tioning eyes on the unexpected guest, who won their good 
 will almost instantly by a sunshiny smile. Then turning to 
 Mildred she began, with a quiet, well-bred ease which made 
 her visit seem perfectly natural, " We are now strangers, 
 but I trust we shall not remain such very long. Indeed, I 
 am already sure that you can help me very much. ' ' (This 
 asking help instead of offering it was certainly adroit policy. ) 
 " I am a Christian worker in this district. My name is 
 Alice Wetheridge. I am well acquainted with Mrs. Whea- 
 ton, and the little she has told me about you has made me 
 wish to know you well ; and I trust you will meet me with 
 the spirit in which I come that of honest friendliness and 
 respect. I shall be just as frank with you as you wish, and 
 I know you have just as much right to your feelings and 
 views as I have to mine. It is our plan of work to co-work 
 cordially, asking each one to choose her own place and kind 
 of effort. I have been around among some of rny families 
 in this house, and, if you will permit me to say it, I have seen 
 your influence, and I think it is most Christian and womanly. 
 You can scarcely blame me, then, if I hope to find in you a 
 congenial fellow-worker." 
 
 These remarks contained no hint of poverty or inferior 
 ity, and might have been made to Mildred in her old home. 
 The sweet, low voice in which they were spoken was sooth 
 ing and winning, while her visitor's gaze was direct and sin 
 cere. Mildred smiled with a little answering friendliness as 
 she said, " Please do not expect much from me. I fear I 
 shall disappoint you." 
 
 " I shall not expect anything more than your own feelings 
 prompt and your own conscience can warrant. I and some 
 friends have classes at a mission chapel not far from here, and 
 all I ask at first is that you and Mrs. Jocelyn attend service 
 at the chapel and see how you like us and how you like our 
 minister."
 
 " HE'S A MAN." 227 
 
 " l s i s his name Mr. Woolling ?" faltered Mildred. 
 
 A slight, evanescent smile flitted across the visitor's face. 
 " No," she said, " that is not his name. Our minister has 
 just returned from Europe, where he has taken a well-de 
 served vacation. I, too, have only come in town within the 
 last few days, otherwise I do not think you would have 
 escaped us so long, ' ' she concluded, with a bright smile, but 
 after a moment she added earnestly, " Please do not think 
 that we shall try to force upon you associations that may not 
 be pleasant. We only ask that you come and judge for 
 yourselves. ' ' 
 
 " What you ask is certainly reasonable," said Mildred 
 thoughtfully, and with an inquiring glance at her mother. 
 
 ' ' I agree with you, Millie, ' ' her mother added with gentle 
 emphasis, for she had been observing their visitor closely ; 
 " and I think we both appreciate Miss Wetheridge's motive 
 in calling upon us, and can respond in like spirit." 
 
 " I thank you," was the cordial reply. " On this card is 
 written my address and where to find our chapel, the hours 
 of service, etc. Please ask for me next Sabbath afternoon, 
 and I will sit with you, so you won' t feel strange, you know. 
 After the service is over we will remain a few moments, and I 
 will introduce you to our minister. As I said at first, if you 
 don't like us or our ways you must not feel in the least tram 
 melled. However that may be, I trust you will let me 
 come and see you sometimes. It was my duty to call upon 
 you because you were in my district ; but now it will be a 
 pleasure to which I hope you will let me look forward." 
 
 ;< You will be welcome," said Mildred smilingly. " I 
 can at least promise so much." 
 
 Miss Wetheridge had slipped off her glove while talking, 
 and in parting she gave a warm, friendly palm to those she 
 wished to win. She had intended only a smiling leave-taking 
 of the children, but they looked so pretty, and were regard-
 
 228 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ing her with such an expression of shy, pleased interest, that 
 she acted on her impulse and kissed them both. " I don't 
 often meet such kissable children," she said, with a brighv 
 flush, " and I couldn't resist the temptation." 
 
 The room seemed lighter the rest of the day for her visit. 
 If she had kissed the children out of policy Mrs. Jocelyn 
 would have been resentfully aware of the fact ; but they were 
 " kissable" children, and no one knew it better than the fond 
 mother, who was won completely by the spontaneity of the 
 act. 
 
 " Millie, I think I'd go to her church, even if Mr. Wool- 
 ling were the minister, ' ' she said, with her sweet laugh. 
 
 "Soft-hearted little mother!" cried Mildred gay ly ; "if 
 people only knew it, you have one very vulnerable side. 
 That was a master-stroke on the part of Miss Wetheridge." 
 
 " She didn't mean it as such, and if some good people had 
 kissed the children I'd have washed their faces as soon as 
 they had gone. The visit has done you good, too, Millie." 
 
 ' ' Well, I admit it has. It was nice to see and hear one 
 of our own people, and to feel that we were not separated by 
 an impassable gulf. To tell the truth, I feel the need of 
 something outside of this old house. I am beginning to 
 mope and brood. I fear it will be some time before the way 
 opens back to our former life, and one grows sickly if one 
 lives too long in the shade. I could work with such a girl as 
 that, for she wouldn't humiliate me. See, her card shows 
 that she lives on Fifth Avenue. If she can work in a mission 
 chapel, I can, especially since she is willing to touch me 
 with her glove off," she concluded, with a significant smile. 
 
 As the evening grew shadowy Mildred took the children 
 out for their walk, and, prompted by considerable curiosity, 
 she led the way to Fifth Avenue, and passed the door on 
 which was inscribed the number printed on Miss Wetheridge' s 
 card. The mansion was as stately and gave as much evi-
 
 "HE'S A MAN." 229 
 
 dence of wealth as Mrs. Arnold' s home. At this moment a 
 handsome carriage drew up to the sidewalk, and Mildred, 
 turning, blushed vividly as she met the eyes of her new ac 
 quaintance, who, accompanied by a fashionably-attired young 
 man, had evidently been out to drive. Mildred felt that she 
 had no right to claim recognition, for a young woman mak 
 ing mission calls in her ' ' district' ' and the same young lady 
 on Fifth Avenue with her fiance, very probably, might be, 
 and often are, two very distinct persons. The girl was about 
 to pass on with downcast eyes and a hot face, feeling that 
 her curiosity had been well punished. But she had not 
 taken three steps before a pleasant voice said at her side, 
 " Miss Jocelyn, what have I done that you won't speak to 
 me ? This is my home, and I hope you will come and see 
 me some time. ' ' 
 
 Mildred looked at the speaker searchingly for a moment, 
 and then said, in a low tone and with tearful eyes, " May 
 you never exchange a home like this, Miss Wetheridge, for 
 one like mine." 
 
 ' ' Should it be my fortune to do so and why may it not ? 
 I hope I may accept of my lot with your courage, Miss 
 Jocelyn, and give to my humbler home the same impress of 
 womanly refinement that you have imparted to yours. Be 
 lieve me, I respected you and your mother thoroughly the 
 moment I crossed your threshold. ' ' 
 
 " I will do whatever you wish me to do," washer relevant, 
 although seemingly irrelevant, reply. 
 
 " That's a very big promise," said Miss Wetheridge viva 
 ciously ; ' ' we will shake hands to bind the compact, ' ' and 
 her attendant raised his hat as politely as he would to any of 
 his companion's friends. 
 
 Mildred went home with the feeling that the leaden monot 
 ony of her life was broken. The hand of genuine Christian 
 sympathy, not charity or patronage, had been reached across
 
 230 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the chasm of her poverty, and by it she justly hoped that she 
 might be led into new relations that would bring light and 
 color into her shadowed experience. 
 
 With her mother and Belle she went to the chapel on the 
 following Sunday afternoon, and found her new friend on the 
 watch for them. The building was plain but substantial, 
 and the audience-room large and cheerful looking. Mr. 
 Woolling was, in truth, not the type of the tall, rugged-featured 
 man who sat on the platform pulpit, and Mildred, at first, 
 was not prepossessed in his favor, but as he rose and began 
 to speak she felt the magnetism of a large heart and brain ; 
 and when he began to preach she found herself yielding to 
 the power of manly Christian thought expressed in honest 
 Saxon words devoid of any trace of affectation, scholasticism, 
 and set phraseology. He spoke as any sensible, practical 
 man would speak concerning a subject in which he believed 
 thoroughly and was deeply interested, and he never once 
 gave the impression that he was" delivering a sermon" which 
 was foreordained to be delivered at that hour. It was a mes 
 sage rather than a sermon, a sincere effort to make the people 
 understand just what God wished them to know concerning 
 the truth under consideration, and especially what they were 
 to do in view of it. The young girl soon reached the con 
 clusion that the religion taught in this chapel was not some 
 thing fashioned to suit the world, but a controlling principle 
 that brought the rich and poor together in their obedience to 
 Him whose perfect life will ever be the law of the Christian 
 Church. The attention of even mercurial Belle was obtained 
 and held, and at the close of the address she whispered, 
 " Millie, that man talks right to one, and not fifty miles over 
 your head. I'll come here every Sunday if you will." 
 
 After the benediction the Rev. Mr. Wentworth came down 
 from the pulpit not in a bustling, favor-currying style, but 
 with a grave, kindly manner to speak to those who wished
 
 "HE'S A MAN." 231 
 
 to see him. When he at last reached Mildred, she felt him 
 looking at her in a way that proved he was not scattering his 
 friendly words as a handful of coin is thrown promiscuously 
 to the poor. He was giving thought to her character and 
 need ; he was exercising his invaluable but lamentably rare 
 gift of tact in judging how he should address these " new 
 people" of whom Miss Wetheridge had spoken. His words 
 were few and simple, but he made Mrs. Jocelyn and Mil 
 dred feel that his interest in them was not official, but gen 
 uine, Christian, and appreciative. Belle very naturally shrank 
 into the background. Her acquaintance with clergymen 
 was not extensive, nor would it, I fear, ever have been in 
 creased by any efforts of her own ; therefore it was with 
 some trepidation that she saw Mr. Wentworth giving her an 
 occasional side glance while talking to her mother. She was 
 about to bow very formally when introduced, but a smile 
 broke over the man's rugged features like a glow of sunshine, 
 as he held out his hand and said, " Miss Belle, I know you 
 and I would be good friends if we had a chance. ' ' 
 
 The girl's impulsive nature responded as if touched by an 
 electric spark, and with her usual directness the words in her 
 mind were spoken. " I like you already," she said. 
 
 " The liking is mutual then," was Mr. Wentworth' s laugh 
 ing reply ; "I'm coming to see you." 
 
 " But, sir," stammered the honest child, "I'm not good 
 like my sister " 
 
 The clergyman now laughed heartily. " All the more 
 reason I should come, ' ' he said. 
 
 " Well, then, please come in the evening, for I wouldn't 
 miss your visit for the world. ' ' 
 
 " I certainly shall," and he named an evening early in the 
 week ; " and now," he resumed, " my friend Miss Weth 
 eridge here has informed me of the conditions on which you 
 have visited our chapel We propose to c?rrv them out in
 
 232 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 good faith, and not put any constraint upon you beyond 
 a cordial invitation to cast your lot with us. It's a great 
 thing to have a church home. You need not feel that you 
 must decide at once, but come again and again, and perhaps 
 by and by you will have a home feeling here. ' ' 
 
 "I'm coming whether the rest do or not," Belle remarked 
 emphatically, and Mr. Wentworth gave her a humorous look 
 which completed the conquest of her heart. 
 
 ' ' Miss Wetheridge knows that my decision was already 
 made," said Mildred quietly, with an intelligent glance 
 toward her friend ; ' ' and if there is any very, very simple 
 work that I can do, I shall feel it a privilege to do the best 
 I can. ' ' 
 
 She never forgot his responsive look of honest friendliness 
 as he answered, " The simplest work you do in that spirit 
 will be blessed. Miss Wetheridge, I hope you will soon find 
 some more people like Mrs. Jocelyn and her daughters. 
 Good-by now for a short time," and a moment later Mildred 
 saw him talking just as kindly, but differently, to a very 
 shabby-looking man. 
 
 Mr. Wentworth was also a " fisher of men," but he fished 
 intelligently, and caught them. 
 
 Belle could hardly wait until she was in the street before 
 exclaiming, " He isn't a bit like our old minister. Why 
 why he's a man."
 
 SKILLED LABOR. 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 SKILLED LABOR. 
 
 MISS WETHERIDGE'S visit bade fair to occasion im 
 portant changes for the bettter in Mildred's pros 
 pects. From Mrs. Wheaton the young lady had learned of 
 her protegee s long hours of ill-repaid toil. She was eager to 
 gain Mildred's confidence to an extent that would warrant 
 some good advice, and after another call early in the week 
 she induced the girl to come and see her and to open her 
 heart fully in the privacy thus secured. Of course there was 
 one secret jealously guarded, and the reader can well under 
 stand that Vinton Arnold's name was not mentioned, and 
 the disagreeable episode of Roger Atwood was not deemed 
 worth speaking of. He was now but a fast-fading memory, 
 for even Belle rarely recalled him. 
 
 That the Jocelyns did not belong to the ordinary ranks of 
 the poor, and that Mildred was not a commonplace girl, was 
 apparent to Miss Wetheridge from the first ; and it was her 
 design to persuade her friend to abandon the overcrowded 
 and ill-paid divisions of labor for something more in accord 
 ance with her cultivation and ability. Mildred soon proved 
 that her education was too general and superficial to admit of 
 teaching except in the primary departments, and as the 
 schools were now in session it might be many months before 
 any opening would occur. With a mingled sigh and laugh 
 she said, " The one thing I know how to do I shall probably 
 never do I could make a home, and I could be perfectly 
 happy in taking care of it "
 
 234 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Pardon me !" cried Miss Wetheridge roguishly, " that 
 seems to me your inevitable fate, sooner or later. We are 
 only counselling together how best to fill up the interval. 
 My Iriend almost made me jealous by the way he talked 
 about you the other evening. 
 
 A faint color stole into Mildred's face. " All that's past, 
 I fear," she said with low, sad emphasis, "and I would 
 never marry merely for the sake of a home. My future is 
 that of a working-woman unless papa can regain his former 
 means. Even then I should not like to live an idle life. So 
 the question is, What kind of work shall I do ? How can I 
 do the most for the family, for I am troubled about papa' s 
 health, and mamma is not strong." 
 
 Her warm-hearted friend's eyes grew moist as she looked 
 intently and understandingly into the clouded and beautiful 
 face. In one of her pretty impulses that often broke through 
 her polite restraint she exclaimed, " Millie, you are a true 
 woman. Please pardon my familiarity, but I can't tell you 
 how much you interest me, how I respect you, and and 
 how much I like you." 
 
 " Nor can I tell you," responded Mildred earnestly, " how 
 much hope and comfort you have already brought me. ' ' 
 
 " Come," said Miss Wetheridge cheerily, " we will go 
 down to the rooms of the Young Women's Christian Associ 
 ation at once. We may get light there. The thing for you 
 to do is to master thoroughly one or more of the higher 
 forms of labor that are as yet uncrowded. That is what I 
 would do." 
 
 While she was preparing for the street she observed Mil 
 dred's eyes resting wistfully on an upright piano that formed 
 part of the beautiful furniture of her private sanctum. ' You 
 are recognizing an old friend and would like to renew your 
 acquaintance, ' ' she said smilingly. ' ' Won' t you play while 
 I am changing my dress ?"
 
 SKILLED LABOR. 235 
 
 ' Perhaps I can best thank you in that way," answered 
 Mildred, availing herself of the permission with a pleasure 
 she could not disguise. ' ' I admit that the loss of my piano 
 has been one of my greatest deprivations. ' ' 
 
 Miss Wetheridge's sleeping -apartment opened into her 
 sitting-room, and, with the door open, it was the same as if 
 they were still together. The promise of thanks was well 
 kept as the exquisite notes of Mendelssohn's " Hope" 
 and " Consolation" filled the rooms with music that is 
 as simple and enduring as the genuine feeling of a good 
 heart. 
 
 " I now understand how truly you lost a friend and com 
 panion in your piano," said Miss Wetheridge, " and I want 
 you to come over here and play whenever you feel like it, 
 whether I am at home or not" 
 
 Mildred smiled, but made no reply. She could accept 
 kindness and help from one who gave them as did Miss 
 Wetheridge, but she was too proud and sensitive to enter 
 upon an intimacy that must of necessity be so one-sided in 
 its favors and advantages, and she instinctively felt that such 
 wide differences in condition would lead to mutual embarrass 
 ments that her enthusiastic friend could not foresee. It was 
 becoming her fixed resolve to accept her lot, with all that it in 
 volved, and no amount of encouragement could induce her \o 
 renew associations that could be enjoyed now only through a 
 certain phase of charity, however the fact might be disguised. 
 But she would rather reveal her purpose by the retiring and 
 even tenor of her way than by any explanations of her feel 
 ings. Thus it came about in the future that Miss Wether 
 idge made three calls, at least, to one that she received, and 
 that in spite of all she could do Mildred shrank from often 
 meeting other members of her family. But this sturdy self- 
 respect on the part of the young girl this resolute purpose 
 not to enter a social circle where she would at least fear pat-
 
 236 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 ronage and surprise at her presence increased her friend's 
 respect in the secrecy of her heart. 
 
 Mildred at once became a member of the Young Women' s 
 Association, and its library and reading-room promised to 
 become a continued means of pleasure and help. From 
 among the several phases of skilled labor taught under the 
 auspices of the Association, she decided to choose the highest 
 that of stenography if her father thought he could support 
 the family without much help for a few months. She was 
 already very rapid and correct in her penmanship, and if she 
 could become expert in taking short-hand notes she was 
 assured that she could find abundant and highly remunerative 
 scope for her skill, and under circumstances, too, that would 
 not involve unpleasant publicity. She thought very favorably, 
 also, of the suggestion that she should join the bookkeeping 
 class. With her fine mental capacity and previous educa 
 tion Miss Wetheridge believed that Mildred could so far 
 master these two arts as to be sure of an independence, and 
 her kind friend proposed to use no little influence in finding 
 opportunities for their exercise. 
 
 Mildred, naturally, lost no time in explaining her projects 
 to her father, and it so happened that she spoke at a moment 
 of peculiar exhilaration on his part. "If it would give you 
 pleasure," he said, " to learn these two accomplishments, 
 you may do so, of course, but I foresee no probability of 
 your ever putting them to use. I now have prospects, ' ' etc. , 
 etc. Soon after, he was in a deep sleep. She looked at 
 him with troubled eyes, and promptly entered on her studies 
 the following day, working with the assiduity of one who 
 feels that the knowledge may be needed before it can be 
 acquired. 
 
 Belle was in quite a flutter of excitement on the evening 
 named for Mr. Wentworth's visit, and the genial clergyman 
 would have laughed again could he have heard one of her
 
 SKILLED LABOR. 237 
 
 reasons for welcoming him. " He is so delkiously homely, ' ' 
 she said, " I like to look at him." He came at the hour 
 appointed, and his visit was truly a " spiritual " one, if en 
 livened spirits, more hopeful hearts, and a richer belief in 
 their Divine Father's good-will toward them all were the 
 legitimate result oi a spiritual visit. Mr. Jocelyn, in expect 
 ancy of the guest, had carefully prepared himself in guilty 
 secrecy, and appeared unusually well, but he was the only 
 one who sighed deeply after the good man's departure. 
 Rising from the depths of his soul through his false exhila 
 ration was a low, threatening voice, saying, " That man is 
 true ; you are a sham, and your hollowness will become 
 known. ' ' 
 
 Indeed, Mr. Wentworth went away with a vague impres 
 sion that there was something unreal or unsound about Mr. 
 Jocelyn, and he began to share Mrs. Wheaton' s painful fore 
 bodings for the family. Belle enjoyed the visit greatly, for 
 the minister was an apostle of a very sunny gospel, and she 
 was then ready for no other. Moreover, the healthful, un- 
 warped man delighted in the girl's frolicsome youth, and no 
 more tried to repress her vivacity than he would the bubble 
 and sparkle of a spring. Indeed he was sensible enough to 
 know that, as the spring keeps pure by flowing and sparkling 
 into the light, so her nature would stand a far better chance 
 of remaining untainted if given abundant yet innocent scope. 
 His genial words had weight with her, but her quick intuition 
 of his sympathy, his sense of humor, which was as genuine as 
 her own, had far more weight, and their eyes rarely met with 
 out responsive smiles. There was nothing trivial, however, 
 in their interplay of mirthf ulness nothing that would prevent 
 the child from coming to him should her heart become bur 
 dened with sin or sorrow. She was assigned to Miss Wether- 
 idge's class, and soon became warmly attached to her teacher. 
 Mildred, to her great surprise, was asked to take a class of
 
 238 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 rude-looking, half-grown boys. In answer to her look of 
 dismay, Mr. Wentworth only said smilingly, " Try it ; trust 
 my judgment ; you can do more with those boys than I 
 can." 
 
 "Were it not for my promise to Miss Wetheridge, I 
 shouldn't even dare think of such a thing," she replied; 
 " but I now feel bound to attempt it, although I hope you 
 will soon give me some very, very little girls." 
 
 "In complying you show a high sense of honor, Miss 
 Jocelyn. I will relieve you after a time, if you wish rne to, ' ' 
 and the student of human nature walked away with a peculiar 
 smile. ' ' When I was a harum-scarum boy, ' ' he muttered, 
 " a girl with such a face could almost make me worship her. 
 I don' t believe boys have changed. ' ' 
 
 She was shrewd enough not to let the class see that she 
 was afraid ; and being only boys, they saw merely what was 
 apparent that they had the prettiest teacher in the room. 
 Her beauty and refinement impressed them vaguely, yet 
 powerfully ; the incipient man within them yielded its invol 
 untary homage, and she appealed to their masculine traits as 
 only a woman of tact can, making them feel that it would be 
 not only wrong but ungallant and unmannerly to take ad 
 vantage of her. They all speedily succumbed except one, 
 whose rude home associations and incorrigible disposition 
 rendered futile her appeals. After two or three Sabbaths the 
 other boys became so incensed that he should disgrace the 
 class that after school they lured him into an alley-way and 
 were administering a well-deserved castigation, when Mildred, 
 who was passing, rescued him. His fear induced him to 
 yield to her invitation to accompany her ho,me ; and her 
 kindness, to which he knew he was not entitled, combined 
 with the wholesome effect of the pummelling received from 
 the boys, led him to unite in making the class once known 
 as " the Incorrigibles" the best behaved in the school.
 
 SKILLED LABOR. 239 
 
 Everything apparently now promised well for the Jocelyns. 
 Their mistaken policy of seclusion and shrinking from 
 contact with the world during their impoverishment had given 
 way to kindly Christian influences, and they were forming the 
 best associations their lot permitted. All might have gone 
 to their ultimate advantage had it not been for the hidden 
 element of weakness so well known to the reader, but as yet 
 unsuspected by the family. 
 
 If Mr. Jocelyn had been able to put forth the efforts of a 
 sound and rational man, he could, with the aid of his daugh 
 ters, even in those times of depression, have passed safely 
 through the trials of sudden poverty, and eventually having 
 learned wisdom from the past experience he could have re 
 gained a better and more stable financial position than the 
 one lost. Thus far he had been able to maintain considerable 
 self-control, and by daily experience knew just about how 
 much morphia he could take without betraying himself. 
 His family had become accustomed to its effects, and ascribed 
 them to the peculiar state of his health. Loving eyes are 
 often the most blind, and that which is seen daily ceases to 
 seem strange. Beyond their natural solicitude over his failing 
 appetite, his unwholesome complexion, and his loss of flesh, 
 they had no misgivings. His decline was so very gradual 
 that there was nothing to startle them. Every day they hoped 
 to see a change for the better, and sought to bring it about 
 by preparing such dainty dishes as were within their means 
 to catch his capricious appetite, and by keeping all their little 
 perplexities and worriments to themselves, so that he might 
 have unbroken rest when free from business. He recognized 
 theif unselfish and considerate devotion, and it added to the 
 horrible depression into which he sank more and more 
 deeply the moment he passed from under the influence of the 
 fatal drug. He was living over an abyss, and that which 
 kept him from its depths was deepening and widening it
 
 240 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 daily. He still had the vague hope that at some time and in 
 some way he could escape ; but days and weeks were pass 
 ing, bringing no change for the better, no honest, patient 
 effort to regain the solid ground of safety. He was drifting 
 down, and when at times he became conscious of the truth, 
 a larger dose of morphia was his one method of benumbing 
 the terror that seemed groping for his heart with a death-cold 
 hand. 
 
 Mildred soon began to make rapid progress in her studies, 
 and grew hopeful over the fact. If her father would give her 
 the chance she could make a place for herself among skilled 
 workers within a year, and be able, if there were need, to pro 
 vide for the entire family. Great and prolonged destitution 
 rarely occurs, even in a crowded city, unless there is much 
 sickness or some destructive vice. Wise economy, patient 
 and well-directed effort, as a rule, secure comfort and inde 
 pendence, if not affluence ; but continued illness, disaster, 
 and especially sin, often bring with them a train of evils diffi 
 cult to describe. 
 
 Mildred found time between* her lessons to aid her mother 
 and also to do a little fancy work, for which, through the aid 
 of Miss Wetheridge, she found private customers who were 
 willing to pay its worth. 
 
 Thus the month of October was passing rapidly and rather 
 hopefully away. They received letters from Clara Bute oc 
 casionally, wherein she expressed herself well content with 
 the country and the situation Mrs. Atwood had obtained for 
 her. "I'm getting as plump and rosy as Susan, ' ' she wrote, 
 " and I'm not coming back to town. Going up and down 
 those tenement stairs tired me more than all the work I do 
 here. Still, I work hard, lean tell you ; but it's all sorts of 
 work, with plenty of good air and good food to do it on. 
 I'm treted better than I ever was before just like one of the
 
 SKILLED LABOR. 241 
 
 family, and there's a young farmer who takes me out to ride 
 sometimes, and he acts and talks like a man." 
 
 Whether this attentive friend were Roger or a new acquaint 
 ance she did not say. For some reason a reticence in regard 
 to the former characterized her letters.
 
 242 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE OLD ASTRONOMER. 
 
 ONE Saturday night Mildred was awakened from time 
 to time by the wailing of a child. The sounds came 
 from the rooms of the Ulphs, which were directly overhead, 
 and by morning she was convinced that there was a case of 
 serious illness in the German family. Led by her sympa 
 thies, and also by the hope of thawing the reserve of the 
 eccentric old astronomer, she resolved to go and ask if she 
 could be of any help. 
 
 In response to her light knock a shock-headed, unkempt 
 boy opened the door and revealed a state of chaos that might 
 well have driven mad any student of the heavenly bodies with 
 their orderly ways. There seemed to be one place for every 
 thing the middle of the floor and about everything was in 
 this one place. In the midst of a desolation anything but 
 picturesque, Mrs. Ulph sat before the fire with a little moan 
 ing baby upon her Jfap. 
 
 " I heard your child crying in the night," said Mildred 
 gently, " and as we are neighbors I thought I would come 
 up and see if I could help you." 
 
 The woman stared a moment and then asked, " You Miss 
 Schoslin ?' ' 
 
 " Yes, and I hope you will let me do something, for I 
 fear you've been up all night and must be very tired." 
 
 "I'm shust dead ; not von vink of schleep haf I had all 
 der night. He shust cry und cry, and vat I do I don't
 
 THE OLD ASTRONOMER. 243 
 
 know. I fear he die. Der fader gone for der doctor, but 
 he die 'fore dey gets here. Schee, he getten gold now." 
 
 Truly enough, the child's extremities were growing chill 
 indeed, and the peculiar pinched look and ashen color 
 which is so often the precursor of death was apparent. 
 
 ' ' Let me call my mother, ' ' cried Mildred, in much alarm. 
 " She knows about children." 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn soon became convinced from the mother's 
 account that the child's disease was cholera infantum, and 
 some previous experience with her own children taught her 
 just what to do. Before very long the little one gave evi 
 dence of a change for the better. After the crisis of danger 
 was past, and while her mother and Mrs. Ulph were working 
 over the infant, Mildred began quietly to put the room into 
 something like order, and to dress the other children that 
 were in various transition states between rags and nakedness. 
 As the German woman emerged from a semi-paralyzed con 
 dition of alarm over her child she began to talk and complain 
 as usual. 
 
 ' ' It vas von shudgment on der fader, ' ' she said querulous 
 ly. ' ' He care more for der schpots on der sun dan for his 
 schilder. For der last veek it's all peen schpots on der sun, 
 netting put schpots. Vat goot dey do us? Dare's peen 
 light to vork py, put efry minit he schtop vork to run to der 
 roof und see dem schpots vot he says on der sun. He says 
 dere ish vat you call him pig virl-a-rounds up dere dat 
 vould plow all der beoples off der earth in von vink, und ven 
 I tells him dat he ish von pig virl-a-round himself, runnin' 
 und runnin', und lettin' der vork schstand, den von of der 
 schpots come outen on him und I dink he plow my hed 
 offen. ' ' 
 
 By and by she began again : " If it ish not schpots it ish 
 someding else. Von year he feel vorse dan if I die pegose 
 vat you call a gomet did not gome ven he said it vould
 
 244 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 gome. He near look his eyes outen for it, und he go efry 
 morning 'fore preakfast for der bapers to get vord of dat 
 gomet. I dought ve all schtarve 'fore he got done mit dot 
 gomet, and ven he give oup all hope of him, he feel vorse 
 dan he vould if dis schild die. He vas so pad to me as if I 
 eat der gomet oup, und ve had not mooch else to eat till he 
 sure der gomet gone to der duyvil. It might haf peen vorse 
 if der gomet gome ; vat he done den der goot Lord only 
 know he go off mit it if he gould. He tink notting of 
 sittin' oup mit a gomet, put he get der schpots on him ven 
 I ask to nurse der schild in der night." 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred paid little attention to her 
 plaints ; and the former, having done what she could, returned 
 to her own family cares. Mildred took the little sick boy in 
 her arms, saying that she would hold him while Mrs. Ulph 
 prepared breakfast. 
 
 It was at this stage of affairs that the door opened, and the 
 pinched and grizzled visage of Mr. Ulph appeared, followed 
 by the burly form of a German physician whom he had in 
 sisted on finding. The former stopped short and stared at 
 Mildred, in grim hesitation whether he should resent an in 
 trusion or acknowledge a kindness. His wile explained 
 rapidly in German, with a deferential manner, but in a sub- 
 acidulous tone. 
 
 " I do not wish to intrude, but only to help as a neighbor 
 should," Mildred began, during a lull between Mrs. Ulph's 
 shrill notes. " I fear your little boy was very ill when I first 
 came indeed my mother thought he was dying. She knows, 
 I think, for my little brother nearly died of an attack like 
 this. ' ' 
 
 Beyond her explanation of Mildred's presence he seemingly 
 had given no heed 1o his wife's words, but now he started 
 and exclaimed, " Mein Gott ! Vat you say? Die?" and 
 he turned with intense anxiety to the doctor, who without
 
 THE OLD ASTRONOMER. 245 
 
 ceremony began to investigate the case, asking the mother 
 questions and receiving answers that Mildred did not under 
 stand. The woman evidently claimed all the credit she 
 deserved for her care of the patient in the night, and sug 
 gested that Mr. Ulph had been very oblivious until the child 
 seemed sinking, for the old man grew excessively impatient 
 during the interrogations. As if unconscious of Mildred's 
 ignorance of their language, he said earnestly to her, " I 
 did not know I vould gif my life for der schild der boor 
 leedle poy I no dink dat he vas so sick," and his eager 
 words and manner convinced Mildred that his wife misrepre 
 sented him, and that his interest in the mystery of the com 
 et's fate would be slight compared with that which centred 
 in his son. 
 
 The phlegmatic physician continued his investigations with 
 true German thoroughness and deliberation. It was well 
 that the child's worst symptoms had been relieved before he 
 came, for he seemed bent on having the whole history of the 
 case down to the latest moment before he extended his heavy 
 hand to the aid of nature, and he questioned Mildred as 
 minutely as he had Mrs. Ulph, while she, unlike the former, 
 did not take any credit to herself. 
 
 If the doctor was a little slow, he was sure, for he said 
 something emphatically to the father, who in turn seized Mil 
 dred' s hand, exclaiming, with explosive energy, " Gott pless 
 you ! Gott pless you !" 
 
 ' ' But it was mamma who did everything, ' ' protested the 
 young girl. 
 
 "Yah, I know, I know; put who prought mamma? 
 Who listen ven der boor leetle poy gry in der night ? Who 
 gome in der morning ? Mine paby vould haf been ded if 
 you haf not gome. Gott pless you ; Gott pless your moder. 
 I vant to dank her mooch. ' ' 
 
 The grateful father had called down God's blessings so
 
 246 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 lavishly that Mildred very naturally said, " You have more 
 reason to thank God than any one else, Mr. Ulph, for no 
 doubt it was His blessing on our efforts that has made your 
 child better. The disease is such a dangerous one that the 
 best human skill is often in vain. ' ' 
 
 The physician shrugged his shoulders and looked signifi 
 cantly at Mr. Ulph, whose visage wrinkled into an odd 
 grimace. 
 
 ;< You may dink vat you please and say vat you please, 
 Miss Schoslin. Men dink different off dese dinks vrom 
 vomans. I haf a vay off saying Gott pless beoples ven I feels 
 goot do wards 'em, put I means 'em no harm. Vat you 
 American beoples somedimes say dank my schtars ? Dat 
 will do shust so veil for me. It vas dis vay : der schild vas 
 seek ; you und your moder gome, und you make gauses und 
 dere are der evvects. I perlieve in gause und evvect, und you 
 vas a very goot gause. 
 
 " We certainly should be very poor neighbors had we not 
 come and done all we could, and with your permission 
 mother and I will help your wife to-day so she can get some 
 rest." 
 
 " I dank you vrom mine heart. You make me dink off 
 der heafenly podies you make order put no noise. I vill 
 do for you vatefer you vish und pe honest. 
 
 Mildred now believed that she had gained the key to the 
 old German's character, and such a hold upon his feelings 
 that he would eventually permit her to become his companion 
 in his star-gazing on the roof. Denied so much of the beauty 
 she craved on the earth, she believed that she could find in an 
 intelligent study of the skies a pleasure that would prove an 
 antidote for the depressing circumstances of her lot. She 
 had often longed with intense curiosity to look through his 
 telescope, and to penetrate some of the bright mysteries that 
 glittered above her with such tantalizing suggestion. She
 
 THE OLD ASTRONOMER. 247 
 
 was adroit, however, and determined that the invitation 
 should come unsolicited from him, so that his suspicions and 
 cynical nature could give no sinister interpretation to her 
 kindness. 
 
 The physician evidently shared in Mr. Ulph's estimate of 
 the mother of the child, for he explained to Mildred how the 
 remedies he left should be used. She and Mrs. Jocelyn 
 acted as nurse most of the day, and the patient improved 
 steadily. After her return from the chapel in the afternoon, 
 Mildred found the old German smoking his pipe in quite a 
 placid mood, and she skilfully led him to talk on his favorite 
 theme. He soon became so interested and so confidential 
 that he unlocked a small, closet-like room and showed her 
 his treasures the telescope and other instruments, Argelan- 
 der's maps, and many books written by the most eminent 
 authorities. 
 
 ' ' I haf gone mitout mine dinner many und many der day 
 to puy dese. Mine pody schtays in dis hole in dis old house, 
 put mit dese vat I gather since ven I vas young, I go to 
 heafen every night. Hah, hah, hah ! dot Engleesh voman 
 on der virst vloor dink she know a petter vay off going to 
 heafen ; und she dalk her reeleegious schargon to me, ven she 
 know netting at all put vat der briests dell her. If dey dell 
 her de moon von pig green scheese she swar it ish so ; put 
 dese dings dell der druf, und der great laws vork on for efer 
 no matter vat voolish beoples perlieve. It vas all law und 
 vorce, und it vould pe von pig muddle in der heafens if it vas 
 all vat der briests say." 
 
 Mildred was in a dilemma, for she felt that she could not 
 be silent under his outspoken scepticism, and yet if she re 
 vealed her mind she doubted whether there would be any 
 result except the alienation of the man whose friendship she 
 was bent on securing. After a moment's hesitation she saw 
 but one honorable course, and so said firmly, " Mr. Ulph,
 
 248 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 I believe you are an honest man, but I want you to think of 
 me as an honest girl, also. If I wanted to know about 
 astronomy and I do want to know very much I would 
 come to you. If I wanted to know about some other things 
 I would go to my minister. I believe in law as truly as you 
 do, but I believe God made the laws that they are simply 
 His will. If I respect your unbelief, you must respect my 
 faith that is fair ; and I think you are one who would deal 
 fairly and do justice to all. Mrs. Wheaton knows little of 
 astronomy and many other things, no doubt, but she has 
 known how to be a very kind, good neighbor to us, and her 
 religion is mine." 
 
 The old German stared at her a moment, then scratched 
 his head as he replied, half apologetically and half pityingly, 
 ' ' You vas netting put a leedle schild, put you haf a goot 
 heart. You vas honest, und you schtands oop vor your 
 vriends, und I likes dot. You may perlieve all der vables 
 you vish ; und I vill dells you more vables apout der schtars 
 dat ish shust so goot und shust so old. ' ' 
 
 ' ' But you will tell me the truth about them, too, won' t 
 you ?" pleaded Mildred, with a smile that would have thawed 
 a colder nature than Mr. Ulph's. " I want to learn a wee 
 bit of what you know. I have so little that is bright and 
 pretty in my life now that I just long to catch some glimpses 
 of what you see in the skies. Perhaps I could help you by 
 writing down your observations. I would ask questions 
 only when you said I might." 
 
 ' ' Veil, now, dot' s a goot idea. Mine eyes vas getten old, 
 und you vas young, put it von't last ; you vas a young ding, 
 und girls vas vlighty and vant vat you call him ? peaux 
 und vrolics ven der nights vas goot and glear. " 
 
 " Try me," said Mildred, with a little emphatic nod. 
 
 " Veil, you don't seem likes von silly girl, und I vill dry 
 you ; put you moost pe very schteady und batient, und but
 
 THE OLD ASTRONOMER. 249 
 
 down shust vhat I say. Von leedle schlip, und I vas all 
 vrong in mine vigures. Von preadth off hair down here ish 
 oh so vide oop dere. Und now, gome, I tells you apout 
 der schpots der sun schpots, ' ' and with many odd gesticu 
 lations and contortions of his quaint visage he described the 
 terrific cyclones that were sweeping over the surface of the 
 sun at that time, and whose corresponding perturbations in 
 the astronomer's mind had so exasperated his wife. She and 
 the sick child were now sleeping, and the other children, 
 warned by the threatening finger of the father, played quietly 
 in a corner. It was an odd place to conjure up images of 
 whirling storms of fire so appallingly vast that the great earth, 
 if dropped into one of them, would be fused instantly like a 
 lump of ore in a blast furnace ; but the grotesque little man 
 was so earnest, so uncouth, yet forcible, in his suggestions 
 as he whirled his arms around to indicate the vast, resistless 
 sweep of the unimaginable forces working their wild will 
 millions of miles away, that their truth and reality grew pain 
 fully vivid to the young girl, and she trembled and shuddered. 
 The roar of the wildest storm, he told her, and the bellowing 
 of mountainous waves combined, would be but a murmur 
 compared with the far-reaching thunder of a sun hurricane as 
 it swept along hundreds of times faster than clouds are ever 
 driven by an earthly tornado. There was nothing in her 
 nature which led her to share in his almost fierce delight in 
 the far-away disturbances, and he suddenly stopped and said 
 kindly, " Vy I vrighten you mit sooch pig gommotions ? 
 You shust von leedle schild off a voman ; und I likes you 
 pegause you haf prain so you see und know vat I say. You 
 see him too mooch, und so you dremble. Dot's goot. If 
 you vas silly you vould giggle. Der schpots ish a goot way 
 offen, und vill nefer virl you away ; und next dime I dells 
 you someding schmooth und britty. ' ' 
 
 Mildred was glad to hasten through the gathering dusk to
 
 250 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 her own natural and homelike abode, for the old nan's 
 strong descriptions and vivid manner had oppressed her with 
 a vague terror, and it was a long time before she could escape 
 from the spell of his words. Indeed they followed her into 
 her dreams, and in one of these dreadful visions she im 
 agined herself shot by the old astronomer through his tele 
 scope straight into the centre of a ' ' sun schpot. ' ' Whom 
 should she find there in her uncurbed imagination but Roger 
 Atwood. He seemed to be standing still, and he coolly re 
 marked that " a man had no business to be whirled about by 
 any force in the universe." She, however, was carried mil 
 lions of miles away a fact she did not so much regret, even 
 in her dream, since he was left behind.
 
 ROGER REAPPEARS. 25 1 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ROGER REAPPEARS. 
 
 ROGER ATWOOD had entered Mildred's mind as a 
 part of a grotesque dream, but he had no place in her 
 waking thoughts. With Vinton Arnold, however, it was 
 very different, and scarcely an hour passed that she was not 
 wondering where he was, and again questioning his pro 
 longed silence. Often her heart beat quick as she imagined 
 she caught a glimpse of him in the street ; and it must be 
 admitted that she looked for him constantly, although she 
 took pains never to pass his residence. Could he be ill, or 
 was he patiently waiting like herself, secure in her good 
 faith ? She longed to see him, even though unseen herself, 
 and one Sunday early in November she yielded to her strong 
 desire to look upon one in reality who had become an abid 
 ing presence in her mind. She believed that from a certain 
 part of the gallery in the church they both had attended in 
 former days she could look down upon the Arnold pew. If 
 he were not ill she felt quite sure he would be in his old 
 place. 
 
 It was almost with a sense of guilty intrusion that she 
 crossed the threshold of her old church-home and stole to the 
 thinly occupied gallery. She saw familiar faces, but shrank 
 from recognition in almost trembling apprehension, scarcely 
 feeling secure behind her thick veil. The place, once so 
 familiar, now seemed as strange as if it belonged to another 
 world ; and in a certain sense she felt that it was part of a
 
 252 WITHOUT A HOME 
 
 world with which she would never willingly identify herself 
 again. It was a place where fashion was supreme, and not 
 the spirit of Christ, not even the spirit of a broad, honest, 
 and earnest humanity. The florid architecture, the high- 
 priced and elegantly upholstered pews, sparsely occupied by 
 people who never wished to be crowded under any possible 
 circumstances, and preferred not to touch each other except 
 in a rather distant and conventional way, the elaborately ritu 
 alistic service, and the cold, superficial religious philosophy 
 taught, were all as far removed from the divine Son of Mary 
 as the tinsel scenery of a stage differs from a natural land 
 scape. Mildred's deep and sorrowful experience made its 
 unreality painfully apparent and unsatisfactory. She re 
 solved, however, to try to give the sacred words that would 
 be uttered their true meaning ; and, in fact, her sincere de 
 votion was like a simple flower blooming by the edge of a 
 glacier. She felt that the human love she brought there and 
 sought to gratify was pure and unselfish, and that in no sense 
 could it be a desecration of the place and hour. To a nature 
 like hers, her half-pitying love for one so unfortunate as 
 Vinton Arnold was almost as sacred as her faith, and there 
 fore she had no scruple in watching for his appearance. 
 
 Her quest was unrewarded, however, for no one entered 
 the pew except Mr. Arnold and one of his daughters. The 
 absence of Mrs. Arnold and the invalid son filled her with 
 forebodings and the memory of the past ; the influence of 
 the place combined with her fears was so depressing that by 
 the time the service ended her tears were falling fast behind 
 her veil. With natural apprehension that her emotion might 
 be observed she looked hastily around, and, with a start, en 
 countered the eyes of Roger Atwood. Her tears seemed to 
 freeze on her cheeks, and she half shuddered in strong revul 
 sion of feeling. She had come to see the man she loved ; 
 after months of patient waiting she had at last so far yielded 

 
 ROGER REAPPEARS. 253 
 
 to the cravings of her heart as to seek but a glimpse of one 
 who fed her dearest earthly hope ; but his piace is vacant. In 
 his stead she finds, almost at her side, one whom she hoped 
 never to see again ; and she knew he was offering through 
 his dark eyes a regard loathed in her inmost soul. She 
 was oppressed with a sudden, superstitious fear that she 
 could not escape him that he was endowed with such a re 
 morseless will and persistence that by some strange necessity 
 she might yield in spite of herself. Belle's words, "He'll 
 win you yet," seemed like a direful prophecy. How it 
 could ever be fulfilled she could not imagine ; but his mere 
 presence caused a flutter of fear, and the consciousness that 
 she was followed by a man pre-eminently gifted with that 
 subtle power before which most obstacles crumble made her 
 shiver with an undefined dread. 
 
 She believed her veil had been no protection that he had 
 seen her emotion and divined its cause, indeed that nothing 
 could escape his eyes. She also felt sure that he had come 
 to the city to carry out the projects which he had vaguely 
 outlined to her, and that henceforth she could never be sure, 
 when away from home, that his searching eyes were not upon 
 her. However well intentioned his motive might be, to her 
 it would be an odious system of espionage. There was but 
 one way in which she could resent it by a cold and steadily 
 maintained indifference, and she left the church without any 
 sign of recognition, feeling that her lowered veil should have 
 taught him that she was shunning observation, and that he 
 had no right to watch her. She went home not only greatly 
 depressed, but incensed, for it was the same to her as if she 
 had been intruded upon at a moment of sacred privacy, and 
 coldly scrutinized while she was giving way to feelings that 
 she would hide from all the world. That he could not know 
 this, and that it was no great breach of delicacy for a young 
 man to sit in the same church with a lady of his acquaint-
 
 254 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ance, and even to regard her with sympathy, she did not 
 consider. She was in no mood to do him justice, and cir 
 cumstances had imbued her mind with intense prejudice. 
 She was by no means perfect, nor above yielding to very un 
 just prejudices when tempted to them by so unwelcome an 
 interest as that entertained by Roger Atwood. 
 
 " What's the matter, Millie?" her mother asked, follow 
 ing her into her room where Belle was writing a letter to 
 Clara Bute. 
 
 Mildred concluded to tell all, for she feared Roger might 
 soon appear and occasion awkward explanations, so she said, 
 '" I felt, this morning, like having a glimpse of our old 
 church axid life. I suppose it was very weak and foolish, 
 and I was well punished, for toward the end of the service I 
 was thinking over old times, and it all very naturally brought 
 some tears. I looked around, and who, of all others, should 
 be watching me but Roger Atwood." 
 
 Belle sprang up and clapped her hands with a ringing 
 laugh. " That' s capital, " she cried. "Didn't I tell you, 
 Millie, you couldn't escape him ? You might just as well 
 give in first as last. ' ' 
 
 " Belle," said Mildred, in strong irritation, " that kind of 
 talk is unpardonable. I won't endure it, and if such non 
 sense is to be indulged in Roger Atwood cannot come here. 
 I shall at least have one refuge, and will not be persecuted in 
 my own home." 
 
 "Belle," added Mrs. Jocelyn gravely, "since Mildred 
 feels as she does, you must respect her feelings. It would 
 be indelicate and unwomanly to do otherwise." 
 
 " There, Millie, I didn't mean anything," Belle said, 
 soothingly. " Besides I want Roger to come and see us, for 
 he can be jolly good company if he has a mind to ; and I 
 believe he will come this afternoon or evening. For my 
 sake you must all treat him well, for I want some one to talk
 
 ROGER REAPPEARS. 255 
 
 to once in a while some one that mamma will say is a 
 'good, well-meaning young man.' The Atwoods have all 
 been so kind to us that we must treat him well. It would 
 be mean not to do so. No doubt he's all alone in the city, 
 too, and will be lonely. ' ' 
 
 " There is no need of his being in the city at all," Mil 
 dred protested. " I've no patience with his leaving those 
 who need him so much. I think of them, and am sure 
 they feel badly about it, and likely enough are blaming me, 
 when, if I had my way, he'd live and die in sight of his own 
 chimney smoke." 
 
 " Millie, you are unreasonable," retorted Belle. " Why 
 hasn' t Roger Atwood as good a right to seek his fortune out 
 in the world as other young men ? Papa didn' t stay on the 
 old plantation, although they all wanted him to. What's 
 more, he has as good a right to like you as you have to dis 
 like him. I may as well say it as think it" 
 
 It was difficult to refute Belle's hard common-sense, and 
 her sister could only protest, ' ' Well, he has no right to be 
 stealthily watching me, nor to persecute me with unwelcome 
 attentions. ' ' 
 
 " Leave it all to me, Millie," said her mother gently. 
 " I will manage it so that Belle can have his society occa 
 sionally, and we show our good-will toward those who have 
 been kind to us. At the same time I think I can shield you 
 from anything disagreeable. He is pretty quick to take a 
 hint ; and you can soon show him by your manner that you 
 wish him well, and that is all. He' 11 soon get over his half- 
 boyish preference, or at least learn to hide it. You give to 
 his feelings more importance than they deserve." 
 
 "I suppose I do," Mildred replied musingly, " but he 
 makes upon me the queer impression that he will never leave 
 me alone that I can never wholly shake him off, and that 
 he will appear like a ghost when I least expect it"
 
 256 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Belle smiled significantly. " There, you might as we'.i 
 speak plainly as look in that way," Mildred concluded irri 
 tably. ' ' I foresee how it will be, but must submit and en 
 dure as best I can, I suppose." 
 
 Belle's anticipation proved correct, for just as they were 
 nearly ready to start for the chapel Roger appeared, and was 
 a little awkward from diffidence and doubt as to his recep 
 tion. Mrs. Jocelyn's kindness and Belle's warm greeting 
 somewhat reassured him, and atoned for Mildred's rather 
 constrained politeness. While answering the many and nat 
 ural questions about those whom he had left in Forestville, 
 he regained his self-possession and was able to hold his own 
 against Belle's sallies. " You have come to the city to 
 stay?" she asked point-blank. 
 
 ; ' Yes, ' ' he said briefly, and that was the only reference 
 he made to himself. 
 
 She soon began vivaciously, " You must go with us to 
 church and Sunday-school. Here you are, an innocent and 
 unprotected youth in this great wicked city, and we must get 
 you under good influences at once." 
 
 ' ' That is my wish, ' ' he replied, looking her laughingly in 
 the face, ' ' and that is why I came to see you. If you have 
 a class and will take me into it, I will accept all the theology 
 you teach me." 
 
 " Mr. Wentworth's hair would rise at the idea of my teach 
 ing theology or anything ; but I'll look after you, and if you 
 get any fast ways I'll make you sorry. No, I'm only a 
 scholar. Millie has a class of the worst boys in school, and 
 if ' ' A warning glance here checked her. 
 
 " Well, then, can't I join your class ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, we are all girls, and you'll make us so bashful 
 we wouldn't dare say anything." 
 
 " I think Mr. Atwood had better go with us to the chapel, 
 accepting the conditions on which we first attended," sug-
 
 ROGER REAPPEARS. 257 
 
 gested Mrs. Jocelyn. " If he is pleased, as we were, he can 
 then act accordingly. 
 
 " Yes, come," cried Belle, who had resumed at once her 
 old companionable and mirthful relations with Roger. " I'll 
 go with you, so you won' t feel strange or afraid. I want you 
 to understand," she continued, as they passed down the 
 quaint old hallway, " that we belong to the aristocracy. 
 Since this is the oldest house in town, we surely should be 
 regarded as one of the old families." 
 
 " By what magic were you able to make so inviting a 
 home in such a place ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, that's Millie's work," she replied. 
 
 " I might have known that," he said, and a sudden 
 shadow crossed his face. Quickly as it passed away, she saw it. 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' she resumed in a low, earnest tone for she had 
 no scruple in fanning the flame of his love which she more 
 than half believed might yet be rewarded " Millie is one of 
 a million. She will be our main dependence, I fear. She 
 is so strong and sensible." 
 
 " Is is not Mr. Jocelyn well ?" he asked apprehensively. 
 
 " I fear he isn't well at all," she answered with some de 
 spondency. " He is sleeping now ; he always rests Sunday 
 afternoon, and we try to let him rest all he can. He sleeps, 
 or rather dozes, a great deal, and seems losing his strength 
 and energy," and she spoke quite frankly concerning their 
 plans, projects, and hopes. She believed in Roger, and knew 
 him to be a sincere friend, and it was her nature to be very 
 outspoken where she had confidence. " If Millie can learn 
 thoroughly what she is now studying," she concluded, " I 
 think we can get along. ' ' 
 
 " Yes," said Roger, in low, sad emphasis, " your sister is 
 indeed one of a million, and my chance of winning one 
 friendly thought from her also seems but one in a million. 
 Belle, let us understand each other from the start I have
 
 ?5 8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 come to the city to stay, and I intend to succeed. I have an 
 uncle in town who has given me a chance, and he'll do more 
 for me, I think. He's peculiar, but he's shrewd and sensi 
 ble, and when he is convinced that I intend to carry out cer 
 tain plans he will aid me. He is watching me now, and 
 thinks I am here only from a restless impulse to see the 
 world ; by and by he will know better. He has the obsti 
 nate Atwood blood, and if he takes a notion to give me a 
 chance to get a first-class education, he will see me through. 
 I'm going to have one anyway, but of course I'd rather be 
 able to get it in five or six years than in eight or ten years, as 
 would be the case if I had to work my own way. I am now 
 employed in his commission store down town, but I am 
 studying every spare moment I can get, and he knows it, 
 only he thinks it won't last. But it will, and I shall at least 
 try to be one of the first lawyers in this city. What's more, 
 I shall work as few young men are willing to work or can 
 work, for I am strong, and well, I have motives for work 
 that are not usual, perhaps. You see I am frank with you 
 as you have been with me. You often talk like a gay child, 
 but I understand you well enough to know that you are a 
 whole-souled little woman, and thoroughly worthy of trust ; 
 and I have told you more about myself and present plans 
 than any one else. Clara Bute informed me all about your 
 courage at the store, and I felt proud that I knew you, and 
 don't intend that you shall ever be ashamed of me. You 
 may tell your mother all this if you please, because I wish her 
 to know just what kind of a young fellow I am, and what are 
 my connections and prospects. I would much like to come 
 and see you and go out with you now and then ; and if you 
 and your well, your family should ever need any service 
 that it was in my power to render, I should like you all to 
 feel that I am not altogether unfit to give it, or to be your 
 associate. ' '
 
 ROGER REAPPEARS. 259 
 
 " You needn't talk that way," said Belle ; " you are up in 
 the world compared with us." 
 
 ' ' I mean every word I say. I respect your mother as I 
 do my own, for I have seen her beautiful life and beautiful 
 face for weeks and months. I never expect to see a more 
 perfect and genuine lady. I am not well versed in society's 
 ways, but I assure you I would make every effort in my power 
 to act as she would think a young man ought to act. I'd 
 rather fight a dragon than displease her. ' ' 
 
 Tears of gratified feeling were in Belle's eyes, but she said 
 brusquely. " Not versed in society's ways ! Account, then, 
 for that fashionable suit of clothes you are wearing." 
 
 " They were not cut in Forestville," he replied dryly. 
 
 " Roger," she said impulsively, "I'm wonderfully glad 
 you've come to New York to live, for I was dying for a little 
 society and fun that mother and Millie wouldn't disapprove 
 of. They are so particular, you know, that I fairly ache 
 from trying to walk in the strait and narrow path which is 
 so easy for them. I want a lark. I must have a lark before 
 long, or I'll explode. What can we do that will be real 
 genuine fun. It will do you good, too, or you'll become a 
 dull boy with nothing but work, work, work. You needn't 
 tell me the world was only made to work in If it was, I've 
 no business here. You must think up something spicy, and 
 no make believe I want to go somewhere where I can laugh 
 with my whole heart. I can't go on much longer at this 
 old humdrum, monotonous jog, any more than your colts 
 up at the farm could go around like the plough-horses, and I 
 know it isn' t right to expect it of me. And yet what has 
 been the case ? Off early in the morning to work, standing 
 all day till I'm lame in body and mad in spirit stupid 
 owls to make us stand till we are so out of sorts that we are 
 ready to bite customers' heads off instead of waiting on 'em 
 pleasantly. When I come home, mamma often looks tired
 
 260 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 and sad, for this life is wearing on her, and she is worrying 
 in secret over papa's health. Millie, too, is tired and down 
 hearted in spite of her trying to hide it. She won' t go out 
 anywhere because she says there are no places where young 
 girls can go unattended that are within our means. I've 
 got tired of the other shop-girls. A few of them are nice ; 
 but more of them are stupid or coarse, so I just sit around 
 and mope, and go to bed early to get through the time. If I 
 even try to romp with the children a little, mamma looks 
 distressed, fearing I will disturb papa, who of late, when he 
 comes out. of his dozing condition, is strangely irritable. A 
 year ago he'd romp and talk nonsense with me to my heart's 
 content ; but that's all passed. Now is it natural for a 
 young girl little more than sixteen to live such a life?" 
 
 " No, Belle, it is not, and yet I have seen enough of the 
 city during the week I have been here to know that your 
 mother and sister are right in their restrictions." 
 
 " Well, then, it's a burning shame that in a city called 
 Christian a poor girl is not more safe outside of her own 
 door than if she were in a jungle. Do you mean to say that 
 girls, situated as Millie and I are, must remain cooped 
 up in little rooms the year round when our 'vork is 
 over ?' ' 
 
 " The street is no place for you to take recreation in after 
 nightfall ; and where else you can gc unattended I'm sure I 
 don't know. If there is any place, I'll find out, for I intend 
 to study this city from top to bottom. A lawyer is bound to 
 know life as it is, above all things. But you needn't worry 
 about this question in the abstract any more. I'll see that 
 you have a good time occasionally. Your sister will not go 
 with me, at least not yet perhaps never but that is not my 
 fault. I've only one favor to ask of you, Belle, and I'll do 
 many in return. Please never, by word, or even by look, 
 make my presence offensive or obtrusive to Miss Mildred
 
 ROGER REAPPEARS. 261 
 
 If you will be careful I will not prove so great an affliction 
 as she fears. ' ' 
 
 " Roger Atwood, do you read people's thoughts ?" 
 
 1 ' Oh, no, I only see what is to be seen, and draw my con 
 clusions," he said, a little sadly. 
 
 " Well, then, if you can have the tact and delicacy to fol 
 low such good eyesight, you may fare better than you ex 
 pect," she whispered at the chapel door. 
 
 He turned toward her with a quick flash, but she had 
 stepped forward into the crowd passing through the vestibule. 
 From that moment, however, a ray of hope entered his 
 heart, and in quiet resolve he decided to conform his tactics 
 to the hint just received. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred followed half a block away, and 
 the former said to her daughter : "There they go, Millie, 
 chattering together like two children. You surely take this 
 affair too seriously. His sudden and boyish infatuation with 
 you was the most natural thing in the world. He had never 
 seen a girl like you before, and you awoke him into some 
 thing like manhood. Very young men are prone to fall in 
 love with women older than themselves, or those who seem 
 older, and speedily to fall out again. Martin has often said 
 his first flame is now a gray-headed lady, and yet he was sure 
 at one time he never could endure life without her. You 
 know that I consoled him quite successfully," and Mildred 
 was pleased to hear the old, sweet laugh that was becoming 
 too rare of late. Even now it ended in a sigh. Mr. Joce 
 lyn was losing his resemblance to the man she had accepted 
 in those bright days that now seemed so long ago. 
 
 " I hope you are right, mamma. It seems as if I ought 
 to laugh at the whole affair and good-naturedly show him 
 his folly, but for some reason I can't. He affects me very 
 strangely. While I feel a strong repulsion, I am beginning 
 to fear him to become conscious of his intensity and the
 
 262 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 tenacity and power of his will. I didn't understand him at 
 first, and I don' t now, but if he were an ordinary, impulsive 
 young fellow he would not impress me as he does." 
 
 " Don't you think him true and good at heart?" 
 
 "I've no reason to think him otherwise. I can't explain 
 to you how I feel, nor do I understand it myself. He seems 
 the embodiment of a certain kind of force, and I always 
 shrank from mere force, whether in nature or people." 
 
 " I can tell you how it is, Millie. Quiet and gentle as 
 you seem, you have a tremendous will of your own, and very 
 strong-willed people don' t get on well together. ' ' 
 
 " Astute little mother ! Well, explain it in any way that 
 pleases you, only keep your promise not to let him become 
 the bane of my life." 
 
 " I'm not at all sure but that Belle will soon usurp your 
 place in his regard, nor would I object, for I am very anxious 
 about the child. I know that her present life seems dull to 
 her, and the temptations of the city to a girl with a nature 
 like hers are legion. He can be a very useful friend to her, 
 and he seems to me manly and trustworthy. I' m not often 
 deceived in my impressions of people, and he inspires me 
 with confidence, and has from the first I never saw any 
 thing underhand in him at the farm." 
 
 " Oh, no, he's honest enough, no doubt." 
 
 "There, Millie," resumed her mother, laughing, "you 
 have a woman's reason for your feelings you don't like him, 
 and that is the end of it You must admit, however, that 
 ' he has improved wonderfully. I never saw a young fellow so 
 changed, so thoroughly waked up. He has sense, too, in 
 little things. One would think from his dress he had been 
 born and bred in the city. They didn't palm off an old- 
 fashioned suit on him, if he was from the country. 
 
 " Chant his praises to Belle, mamma, and she will greatly 
 appreciate this last proof of his superiority. To me he
 
 ROGER REAPPEARS. 263 
 
 seems like his clothes a little too new. Still I admit that 
 he can be of very great service to Belle ; and if he will re 
 strict his attentions to her I will be as polite as either of you 
 can wish. I, too, feel a very deep sympathy for Belle. She 
 is little more than a child, and yet her life is imposing upon 
 her the monotonous work of a middle-aged woman, and I 
 fear the consequences. It's contrary to nature, and no one 
 knows it better than she. If he will help us take care of her 
 I shall be grateful indeed ; but if he grows sentimental and 
 follows me as he did this morning, I could not endure it 
 indeed I could not" 
 
 " Well, Millie dear, we won't cross any bridges till we 
 come to them."
 
 264 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE DARK SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS. 
 
 DURING the sermon it must be admitted that Belle's 
 thoughts wandered from the text and its able de 
 velopment by Mr. Wentworth. In fact, she was developing 
 a little scheme of her own, and, as the result, whispered at 
 the close of service, "Mamma, Roger and I are going to 
 take a walk in the Park. Can't I ask him home to supper? 
 This is his first Sunday in town, and it will be so dismal " 
 
 " Yes, child, go and have a good time." 
 
 Within the next five minutes radiant Belle was an uncon 
 scious embodiment of foreordination to Roger. He had had 
 no idea of going to the Park, but Belle had decreed he should 
 go, and as he smilingly accompanied her he certainly re 
 mained a very contented free agent. 
 
 It was a clear, bracing afternoon and evening, wherein were 
 blended the characteristics of both autumn and winter, and 
 the young people returned with glowing cheeks and quick 
 ened pulses. 
 
 " Oh, Millie !" cried Belle, " such a walk as I have had 
 would make you over new. I felt as if I were a hundred 
 this morning, but now I feel just about sixteen that was 
 my last birthday, wasn't it, mamma ?" 
 
 Both mother and sister smiled to see her sparkling eyes 
 and bubbling happiness ; and the latter thought, " For her 
 sake I must certainly either master or conceal my dislike for 
 that young fellow."
 
 THE DARK SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS. 265 
 
 Indeed, she herself appeared sadly in need of a little vigor 
 ous exercise in the frosty air. The events of the day had 
 been exceedingly depressing ; despondency had taken the 
 place of the irritation and the hopes and fears that had alter 
 nated in the morning hours ; but she unselfishly tried to 
 disguise it, and to aid her mother in preparing an inviting 
 supper for Belle and her guest. 
 
 Mildred was obliged to admit to herself that Roger had 
 very little of the appearance and manner of an uncouth coun 
 tryman. There was a subtle, half-conscious homage for her 
 mother in his every look and word, and for herself a polite 
 ness almost as distant and unobtrusive as her own. Once, 
 when a sigh escaped her as she was busy about the room, 
 she looked apprehensively at him, and, as she feared, en 
 countered a glance from which nothing could escape. She 
 now felt that her assumed cheerfulness deceived him so little 
 that, were it not for Belle, she would wholly forego the effort, 
 and end the long, miserable day in her own room. 
 
 Suddenly the thought occurred to her : " I will learn from 
 his microscopic eyes how papa appears to others not blinded 
 by love as we are ; for, in spite of all my efforts to look on 
 the bright side, I am exceedingly ill at ease about him. I 
 fear he is failing faster than we think we who see him daily. 
 Mr. Atwood has not seen him for months, and the least 
 change would be apparent to him." 
 
 Immunity from business induced Mr. Jocelyn to gratify 
 his cravings more unstintedly on Sunday ; and as he was 
 often exceedingly irritable if disturbed when sleeping off the 
 effects of an extra indulgence, they usually left him to wake 
 of his own accord. Unfortunately the walls of his apartment 
 were but curtains, and his loud breathings made it necessary 
 to rouse him. This Mrs. Jocelyn accomplished with some 
 difficulty, but did not mention the presence of Roger, fearing 
 that in his half-wakened condition he might make some
 
 266 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 remark which would hurt the young man's feelings. She 
 merely assisted him to arrange his disordered hair and dress, 
 and then led the way to the supper-table, he in the mean 
 time protesting petulantly that he wished no supper, but 
 would rather have slept. 
 
 As he emerged from the curtained doorway, Mildred's 
 eyes were fastened on Roger's face, determined that nothing 
 in its expression should escape her. He at the moment was 
 in the midst of a laughing reply to one of Belle's funny 
 speeches, but he stopped instantly and turned pale as his 
 eyes rested on the visage of her father. Had that face then 
 changed so greatly ? Had disease made such havoc that this 
 comparative stranger was aghast and could not conceal the 
 truth that he was shocked ? 
 
 Jt was with sharp anguish that these queries flashed through 
 Mildred's mind, and, with her own perceptions sharpened 
 and quickened, she saw that her father had indeed changed 
 very greatly ; he had grown much thinner ; his complexion 
 had an unnatural, livid aspect ; his old serene, frank look 
 was absent, and a noticeable contraction in the pupils of his 
 eyes gave an odd, sinister aspect to his expression. 
 
 There were other changes that were even more painful to 
 witness. In former days he had been the embodiment of 
 genial Southern hospitality ; but now, although he made a 
 visible effort for self-control, his whole body seemed one dis 
 eased irritable nerve. 
 
 Roger almost instantly overcame his pained surprise, yet 
 not so quickly but that it was observed by all, and even by 
 him who had been the cause. " I am very sorry to learn 
 you are not in good health," he was indiscreet enough to 
 say as he offered his hand in greeting. 
 
 " From whom have you learned this?" demanded Mr. 
 Jocelyn, looking angrily and suspiciously around. " I 
 assure you that you are mistaken. I never was in better
 
 THE DARK SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS. 267 
 
 health, and I am not pleased that any one should gossip 
 about me." 
 
 They sat down under a miserable constraint Belle flushed 
 and indignant, Mildred no longer disguising her sadness, and 
 poor Mrs. Jocelyn with moist eyes making a pitiful attempt to 
 restore serenity so that Belle's happy day might not become 
 clouded. Roger tried to break the evil spell by giving his 
 impressions of the Park to Mrs. Jocelyn, but was interrupted 
 by her husband, who had been watching the young man with 
 a perplexed, suspicious look, vainly trying to recall the name 
 of one whose face was familiar enough, remarking at last 
 very satirically, " Has it ceased to be the style to introduce 
 people, especially at one' s own table ? I might appreciate 
 this gentleman's conversation better if I knew his name." 
 
 They all looked at each other in sudden dismay, for they 
 could not know that opium impairs memory as well as health 
 and manhood. " Martin," cried his wife, in a tone of sharp 
 distress, " You are ill, indeed. There is no use in trying to 
 disguise the truth any longer. What ! don't you remember 
 Roger Atwood, the son of the kind friends with whom we 
 spent the summer?" and in spite of all effort tears blinded 
 her eyes. 
 
 The wretched man's instinct of self-preservation was 
 aroused. He saw from the looks of all about him that he was 
 betraying himself that he was wholly off his balance. 
 While vividly and painfully aware of his danger, his enfeebled 
 will and opium-clouded mind were impotent to steady and 
 sustain him or to direct his course. He had much of the 
 terror and all the sense of helplessness of a man who finds 
 himself in deep water and cannot swim. He trembled, the 
 perspiration started out on his brow, and his one impulse now 
 was to be alone with his terrible master, that had become the 
 sole source of his semblance of strength as well as of his real 
 and fatal weakness. " I I fear I am ill," he faltered.
 
 268 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " I'll go out and get a little air," and he was about to leave 
 the room almost precipitately. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Martin, ' ' expostulated his wife, ' ' don' t go out at 
 least not alone." 
 
 Again he lost control of himself, and said savagely, " I 
 will. Don't any one dare to follow me," and he almost 
 rushed away. 
 
 For a moment Mrs. Jocelyn tried to bear up from instinc 
 tive politeness, but her lip quivered like that of a child ; then 
 the tide of her feeling swept her away, and she fled to the 
 adjoining apartment. Mildred followed her at once, and 
 Belle, with a white, scared face, looked into Roger's eyes. 
 He rose and came directly to her and said, " Belle, you 
 know you can always count on me. Your father is so ill 
 that I think I had better follow him. I can do so un 
 observed. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, Roger why is is papa losing his mind ?" 
 
 His quick eye now noted that Fred and Minnie had be 
 come so impressed that something dreadful had happened 
 that they were about to make the occasion more painful by 
 their outcries, and he turned smilingly to them, and with a 
 lew reassuring words and promises soon quieted their fears. 
 " Be a brave little woman, Belle," he at last said to her. 
 " There is my address, and please promise to let me know 
 if I can do anything for you and for for Mrs. Jocelyn." 
 
 " Don't go please don't go yet," Belle pleaded. 
 " Papa's looks and words to-night fill me with a strange 
 fear as if something awful might happen." 
 
 ' ' Perhaps if I follow your father I may prevent ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes, go at once." 
 
 He was intercepted at the door by the entrance of Mr. 
 Jocelyn, who had had ample time in the few brief minutes 
 that had elapsed to fill his system with the subtle stimulant. 
 He now took Roger by the hand most cordially, and said.
 
 THE DARK SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS. 269 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Atwood. My health has become some 
 what impaired of late, and I fear I have just had a rather bad 
 turn ; but the air has revived me, and the trouble now has 
 passed. I insist that you stay and spend the evening with us. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, papa," cried Belle, rushing into his arms, "how 
 you frightened us ! Please go into my room, there, and 
 comfort mamma by telling her you are all well again." 
 
 This he did so effectively that he soon led her out smiling 
 through her tears, for her confidence in him was the growth 
 and habit of years, and anything he said to her seemed for 
 the moment true. And, indeed, the man was so changed 
 that it was hard to realize he was not well. His face, in 
 contrast with its aspect a few moments since, appeared to 
 have regained its natural hue and expression ; every trace of 
 irritability had passed away, and with his old-time, easy 
 courtesy and seeming frankness he talked so plausibly of it 
 all that Belle and his wife, and even Roger, felt that they 
 had attached undue importance to a mere temporary indispo 
 sition. 
 
 Mildred made great effort to be cheerful for her father's 
 sake, but the pallor did not pass from her face, nor the look 
 of deep anxiety from her eyes. The shadow of coming trou 
 ble had fallen too heavily upon her, and that the marked ex 
 hibition of her father's failing powers should have occurred 
 at this time added to the impression that Roger Atwood was 
 their evil genius. She recalled the fact that he seemingly 
 had been the first exciting cause of her father's unnatural 
 behavior, and now his reappearance was the occasion of the 
 most convincing proof they had yet received that the one 
 upon whom they all depended was apparently failing in both 
 mind and body. Even now, while he was doing his best to 
 reassure and render happy his family, there was to her per 
 ception an unreality in his words and manner. She almost 
 imagined, too, that he feared to meet her eye and shunned
 
 27 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 doing so. Not in the remotest degree, however, did she sus 
 pect the cause of his suddenly varying moods and changed 
 appearance, but regarded all as the result of his misfortunes ; 
 and the miserable presentiment grew strong upon her that 
 soon alas ! too soon^ she would be the slender reed on 
 which they all would lean. If she could have six months, 
 only, of careful preparation she would not so dread the bur 
 den ; but if now, or soon, the whole responsibility of the 
 family's support should come upon her and Belle, what 
 would they do ? Her heart sank, and her very soul cowered 
 at the prospect. She could not live in the present hour like 
 Belle, but with too keen a foresight realized how dark and 
 threatening was the future. 
 
 The night was clear and beautiful, and Roger and Belle 
 went up to the platform built over the roof. Not long after 
 ward there was a knock at the door, and Mr. Ulph appeared. 
 " Der night vas goot, " he said to Mildred, " und I vill gif 
 you von leedle glimpse off hefen if you vould like him." 
 
 The poor girl felt that she certainly needed a glimpse of 
 something bright and reassuring, and wrapping herself warmly 
 she followed her quaint friend to the roof. 
 
 Roger grew taciturn as he watched the dim outline of her 
 form and her white, upturned face. She seemed as cold and 
 distant to him as the stars at which she gazed, and he thought 
 dejectedly, " The least of them have an interest for her 
 greater than I shall ever be able to inspire." 
 
 He overrated her interest in the stars on that occasion, 
 however, for though she did her best to follow the old 
 astronomer's words, her heart was too sorrowful and preoccu 
 pied, and her eyes too often blinded by tears, which once glit 
 tered so distinctly in the rays of a brilliant planet that her 
 companion stopped in the midst of a sentence and looked at 
 her keenly. 
 
 " You vas not habby, my leedle schild, " he said kindly. 
 " Dere's someding droubiing you heart ; put you gan no see
 
 THE DARK SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS. 271 
 
 vay inter der hefens drew dears do' dey vas glear as der lens 
 off my glass. ' ' 
 
 4 ' I fear I shall have to see through tears very often, if I see at 
 all," Mildred replied, with a low, suppressed sob. " Forgive 
 me to-night. I </<?feel grateful that you are willing to show me 
 but I I well, I am troubled to-night about something, 
 and I can' t control myself. To-morrow night F 11 be braver, and 
 will help you. Please don't feel hurt if I leave you now." 
 
 " Ah, mine leedle girl, learn vrom der schtars dot der 
 great laws moost be opeyed, und don' t you vorry und vret 
 ober vat you gannot help. Shust you go along quiet und 
 easy like Shupiter oup dere. Lots off dings vill dry to bull 
 dis vay and dot vay outen der right orpit, put dond you 
 mind 'em, und shust go right schtrait along und not care. 
 You veels too mooch apout oder beoples. Der schtars deach 
 you petter ; dey goes right on der own vay und about der 
 own pisness, unless dey vas voolish leedle schtars, like dot 
 von dere dots shust gone to der duyvel vrom runin outen his 
 vay toward der earth. 
 
 She might have reminded him that, if she had acted upon 
 this cold and selfish philosophy, his little child would now be 
 sleeping in a distant cemetery instead of in his warm crib, 
 but she only said, ' ' Good-night, Mr. Ulph ; I' 11 do better 
 next time, ' ' and she hurried away. She felt that the sun and 
 centre of their family life was passing under a strange and 
 lasting eclipse, and the result might be darkness chaos. 
 
 She wiped her eyes carefully, that no traces of grief might 
 appear, and then entered their room. Her mother was 
 putting the children to bed, and her father looking dreamily 
 out of the window. She kissed him, and said briefly, "I'm 
 tired and think I will retire early so as to be ready for my 
 work." He made no effort to detain her. She clasped her 
 mother in a momentary passionate embrace, and then shut 
 herself up to a night of almost sleepless grief.
 
 272 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WAXING AND WANING MANHOOD. 
 
 OTH Belle and Roger saw that Mildred had not been 
 JLJ reassured by Mr. Jocelyn's return and manner ; and 
 as they thought it ovei they found it difficult to account for 
 his strangely varying moods. After a rather lame effort to 
 chat cheerily, Roger bade Belle good-night, and assured her 
 that she now had a friend always within call. 
 
 His uncle's modest residence was in a side street and not 
 far away, but the young fellow walked for hours before ap 
 plying his night-key to the door. What he had seen and 
 heard that day touched his heart's core, and the influences 
 that were so rapidly developing his manhood were greatly 
 strengthened. For Belle he now had a genuine liking and 
 not a little respect. He saw her foibles clearly, and under 
 stood that she was still more a child than a woman, and so 
 should not be judged by the standards proper for those of 
 mature age ; but he also saw the foundations on which a 
 noble womanhood might be built. She inspired a sense of 
 comradeship and honest friendliness which would easily 
 deepen into fraternal love, but Mrs. Jocelyn's surmise that 
 she might some day touch that innermost spring which con 
 trols the entire man had no true basis. Nor would there 
 have been any possibility of this had he never seen Mildred. 
 A true man one governed by heart and mind, not passion 
 meets many women whom he likes and admires exceed 
 ingly, but who can never quicken his pulse. On Mildred,
 
 WAXING AND WANING MANHOOD. 273 
 
 however although she coveted the gift so little was be 
 stowed the power to touch the most hidden and powerful 
 principles of his being, to awaken and stimulate every faculty 
 he possessed. Her words echoed and re-echoed in the re 
 cesses of his soul ; even her cold, distant glances were like 
 rays of a tropical sun to which his heart could offer no re 
 sistance ; and yet they were by no means enervating. Some 
 natures would have grown despondent over prospects seem 
 ingly so hopeless, but Roger was of a different type. His 
 deep and unaccepted feeling did not flow back upon his 
 spirit, quenching it in dejection and despair, but it became 
 a resistless tide back of his purpose to win her recognition 
 and respect at least, and his determination to prove himself 
 her peer. A girl so beautiful and womanly might easily gain 
 such power over several men without any conscious effort, 
 remaining meanwhile wholly indifferent or even averse her- 
 self, and Roger had indeed but little cause for hope. He 
 might realize every ambitious dream and win her respect and 
 admiration, and her heart continue as unresponsive as it had 
 been from the first. Many a man has loved and waited in 
 vain ; and some out of this long adversity in that which 
 touched their dearest interests have built the grandest suc 
 cesses of life and the loftiest and purest manhood. 
 
 A few months before, Roger seemingly had been a good- 
 natured, pleasure-loving country youth, who took life as it 
 came, with little thought for the morrow. Events had proved 
 that he had latent and undeveloped force. In the material 
 world we find substances that apparently are inert and power 
 less, but let some other substance be brought sufficiently near, 
 and an energy is developed that seems like magic, and trans 
 formations take place that were regarded as supernatural in 
 times when nature's laws were little understood. If this be 
 true concerning that which is gross and material, how much 
 more true of the quick, informing spirit that can send out its
 
 274 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 thoughts to the farthest star ! Strong souls once wholly 
 unconscious of their power at the touch of adequate motives 
 pass into action and combinations which change the charac 
 ter of the world from age to age. 
 
 But in the spiritual as in the physical world, this develop 
 ment takes place in accordance with natural law and within 
 the limitations of each character. There is nothing strange, 
 however strange it may appear to those who do not under 
 stand. Roger Atwood was not a genius that would speedily 
 dazzle the world with bewildering coruscations. It would 
 rather be his tendency to grow silent and reserved with years, 
 but his old boyish alertness would not decline, or his habit of 
 shrewd, accurate observation. He thus would take few false 
 steps, and would prove his force by deeds. Therefore he was 
 almost predestined to succeed, for his unusually strong will 
 would not drive him into useless effort or against obstacles 
 that could be foreseen and avoided. 
 
 After Mildred's departure from the country he carried out 
 his plans in a characteristic way. He wrote frankly and de 
 cidedly to his uncle that he was coming to the city, and 
 would struggle on alone if he received no aid. At the same 
 time he suggested that he had a large acquaintance in his 
 vicinity, and therefore by judicious canvassing among the 
 farmers he believed he could bring much patronage with him. 
 This looked not unreasonable to the shrewd commission 
 merchant, and, since his nephew was determined to make 
 an excursion into the world, he concluded it had bet 
 ter be done under the safest and most business-like circum 
 stances. At the same time recalling the character and 
 habits of the country boy, as he remembered him, he sur 
 mised that Roger would soon become homesick and glad to 
 go back to his old life. If retained under his eye, the youth 
 could be kept out of harm* s way and returned untainted and 
 content to be a farmer. He therefore wrote to Roger that,
 
 WAXING AND WANING MANHOOD. 275 
 
 if his parents were willing, he might secure what trade he 
 could in farm produce and make the trial. 
 
 At first Mr. and Mrs. Atwood would not hear of the plan, 
 and the father openly declared that it was "those Jocelyn 
 girls that had unsettled the boy." 
 
 ' ' Father, ' ' said Roger, a little defiantly and sarcastically, 
 ' ' doesn' t it strike you that I' m rather tall for a boy ? Did 
 you never hear of a small child, almost of age, choosing his 
 own course in life ?" 
 
 ' ' That is not the way to talk, ' ' said his mother reprov 
 ingly. ' ' We both very naturally feel that it' s hard, and 
 hardly right, too, for you to leave us just as we are getting 
 old and need some one to lean on." 
 
 " Do not believe, mother, that I have not thought of 
 that," was the eager reply ; " and if I have my way you and 
 father, and Susan too, shall be well provided for." 
 
 " Thank you," Mr. Atwood snarled contemptuously. 
 " I'll get what I can out of the old farm, and I don't expect 
 any provision from an overgrown boy whose head is so turned 
 by two city girls that he must go dangling after them." 
 
 Roger flushed hotly, and angry words rose to his lips, but 
 he restrained them by a visible effort. After a moment he 
 said quietly, ' ' You are my father, and may say what you 
 please. There is but one way of convincing you whether I 
 am a boy or a man, and I'll take it. You can keep me here 
 till I'm twenty-one if you will, but you'll be sorry. It will 
 be so much loss to me and no gain to you. I've often heard 
 you say the Atwoods never ' drove well/ and you found out 
 years ago that a good word went further with me than what you 
 used to call a ' good thrashing. ' If you let me have my way, 
 now that I'm old enough to choose for myself, I'll make your 
 old age cozy and comfortable. If you thwart me, as I said be 
 fore, you'll be sorry, ' ' and he turned on his heel and left them. 
 
 Politic Mrs. Atwood had watched her son closely for week/
 
 276 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 and knew that something was coming, but with woman's 
 patience she waited and was kind. No one would miss him 
 so much as she, and yet, mother-like, she now took sides 
 against her own heart. But she saw that her husband was in 
 no mood to listen to her at present, and nothing more was 
 said that day. 
 
 In the evening Roger drove out in his carriage and re 
 turned on horseback. 
 
 "There's the money you paid for the buggy, with in 
 terest," he said to his father. 
 
 " You aren't gone yet," was the growling answer. 
 
 " No matter. I shall not ride in it again, and you are not 
 the loser." 
 
 Roger had a rugged side to his nature which his father's 
 course often called out, and Mrs. Atwood made her husband 
 feel, reluctant as he was to admit it, that he was taking the 
 wrong course with his son. A letter also from his brother in 
 town led him to believe that Roger would probably come 
 back in the spring well content to remain at home ; so at last 
 he gave a grudging consent. 
 
 Ungracious as it was, the young man rewarded him by a 
 vigorous, thorough completion of the fall work, by painting 
 the house and putting the place in better order than it had 
 ever known before ; meanwhile for his mother and sister he 
 showed a consideration and gentleness which proved that he 
 was much changed from his old self. 
 
 " I can see the hand of Mildred Jocelyn in everything he 
 says and does," Susan remarked one day after a long fit of 
 musing, " and yet I don't believe she cares a straw for him." 
 Her intuition was correct; it was Roger's ambition to be 
 come such a man as Mildred must respect in spite of herself, 
 and it was also true that she was not merely indifferent, but 
 for the reasons already given as far as she had reasons she 
 positively disliked him.
 
 WAXING AND WANING MANHOOD. 277 
 
 Roger brought sufficient business from the country to pre 
 vent regretful second thoughts in the mind of his thrifty un 
 cle, and the impression was made that the young fellow 
 might steady down into a useful clerk ; but when as much 
 was hinted Roger frankly told him that he regarded business 
 as a stepping-stone merely to the study of the law. The old 
 merchant eyed him askance, but made no response. Occa 
 sionally the veteran of the market evinced a glimmer of en 
 thusiasm over a prime article of butter, but anything so in 
 tangible as a young man's ambitious dreams was looked 
 upon with a very cynical eye. Still he could not be a part 
 of New York life and remain wholly sceptical in regard to 
 the possibilities it offered to a young fellow of talent and 
 large capacity for work. He was a childless man, and if 
 Roger had it in him to " climb the ladder," as he expressed 
 it to himself, " it might pay to give him the chance." But 
 the power to climb would have to be proved almost to a 
 demonstration. In the mean time Roger, well watched and 
 much mistrusted, was but a clerk in his store near Washing 
 ton Market, and a student during all spare hours. 
 
 He had too much sense to attempt superficial work or to 
 seek to build his fortunes on the slight foundation of mere 
 smartness. It was his plan to continue in business for a year 
 or more and then enter the junior class of one of the city col 
 leges. By making the most of every moment and with the 
 aid of a little private tutoring he believed he could do this, 
 for he was a natural mathematician, and would find in the 
 classics his chief difficulties. At any rate it was his fixed re 
 solve not to enter upon the study of the law proper until he 
 had broadened his mind by considerable general culture. 
 Not only did his ambition prompt to this, but he felt that if 
 he developed narrowly none would be so clearly aware of the 
 fact as Mildred Jocelyn. Although not a highly educated 
 girl herself, he knew she had a well-bred woman's nice per-
 
 278 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ception of what constituted a cultivated man ; he also knew 
 that he had much prejudice to overcome, and that he must 
 strike at its very root. 
 
 In the mean time poor Mildred, unconscious of all save 
 his unwelcome regard, was seeking with almost desperate 
 earnestness to gain practical knowledge of two humble arts, 
 hoping to be prepared for the time now clearly foreseen and 
 dreaded when her father might decline so far in mind and 
 health as to fail them utterly, and even become a heavy bur 
 den. She did not dream that his disease was a drug, and 
 although some of his associates began to suspect as much, in 
 spite of all his precautions, none felt called upon to suggest 
 their suspicions to his family. 
 
 Causes that work steadily will sooner or later reach their 
 legitimate results. The opium inertia grew inevitably upon 
 Mr. Jocelyn. He disappointed the expectations of his em 
 ployers to that degree that they felt that something was 
 wrong, and his appearance and manner often puzzled them 
 not a little, even though with all the cunning which the habit 
 engenders he sought to hide his weakness. 
 
 One day, late in November, an unexpected incident 
 brought matters to a crisis. An experienced medical 
 acquaintance, while making a call upon the firm, caught 
 sight of Mr. Jocelyn, and his practiced eye detected the 
 trouble at once. 
 
 " That man is an opium-eater," he said in a low tone, 
 and his explanation of the effects of the drug was a diagnosis 
 of Mr. Jocelyn' s symptoms and appearance. The firm's 
 sympathy for a man seemingly in poor health was transformed 
 into disgust and antipathy, since there is less popular toleration 
 of this weakness than of drinking habits. The very obscurity 
 in which the vice is involved makes it seem all the more 
 unnatural and repulsive, and it must be admitted that the 
 fullest knowledge tends only to increase this horror and re-
 
 WAXING AND WANING MANHOOD. 279 
 
 pugnance, even though pity is awakened for the wretched 
 victim. 
 
 But Mr. Jocelyn's employers had little knowledge of the 
 vice, and they were not in the least inclined to pity. They 
 felt that they had been imposed upon, and that too at a time 
 when all business men were very restless under useless ex 
 penditure. It was the man's fault and not misfortune that 
 he had failed so signally in securing trade from the South, 
 and, while they had paid him but a small salary, his ill-directed 
 and Avavering efforts had involved them in considerable ex 
 pense. Asking the physician to remain, they summoned 
 Mr. Jocelyn to the private office, and directly charged him 
 with the excessive and habitual use of opium. 
 
 The poor man was at first greatly confused, and trembled 
 as if in an ague fit, for his nerve power was already so shat 
 tered that he had little self-control in an emergency. This, 
 of course, was confirmation of guilt in their eyes. 
 
 ' ' Gentlemen, you do me a great wrong, ' ' he managed to 
 say, and hastily left the office. Having secreted himself from 
 observation he snatched out his hypodermic syringe, and 
 within six minutes felt himself equal to any crisis. Boldly 
 returning to the office he denied the charge in the most ex 
 plicit terms, and with some show of lofty indignation. The 
 physician who was still present watched him closely, and 
 noticed that the cuff on his left hand was somewhat crum 
 pled, as if it had been recently pushed back. Without a 
 word he seized Mr. Jocelyn's arm and pulled back his coat 
 and shirt sleeve, revealing a bright red puncture just made, 
 and many others of a remoter date. 
 
 " There is no use in lying about such matters to me," said 
 the physician. " How much morphia did you inject into 
 your arm since you left us ?" 
 
 " I am a victim of neuralgia," Mr. Jocelyn began, without 
 any hesitation, " and the cruel and unreasonable charge here
 
 2 So WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 made against me brought on an acute paroxysm, and there 
 fore I " 
 
 " Stop that nonsense," interrupted the doctor, roughly. 
 " Don't you know that lying, when lying is of no use, is 
 one of the characteristic traits of an opium-eater ? I am a 
 physician, and have seen too many cases to be deceived a 
 moment You have all the symptoms of a confirmed mor 
 phia consumer, and if you ever wish to break your chains 
 you had better tell doctors the truth and put yourself under 
 the charge of one in whom you have confidence. ' ' 
 
 " Well, curse you !" said Mr. Jocelyn savagely, " it was 
 through one of your damnable fraternity that I acquired what 
 you are pleased to call my chains, and now you come croak 
 ing to my employers, poisoning their minds against me." 
 
 " Oh, as to poisoning," remarked the physician sarcasti 
 cally, " I'll wager a thousand dollars that you have absorbed 
 enough morphia within the last twenty-four hours to kill every 
 one in this office. At the rate you are going on, as far as I can 
 judge from appearances, you will soon poison yourself out of 
 existence. No physician ever advised the destroying vice 
 you are practising, and no physician would take offence at 
 your words any more than at the half-demented ravings of g 
 fever patient. You are in a very critical condition, sir, and 
 unless you can wake up to the truth and put forth more will 
 power than most men possess you will soon go to the bad." 
 
 " I sincerely hope you will take this experienced phy 
 sician's advice," said the senior member of the firm very 
 coldly. "At any rate we can no longer permit you to 
 jeopardize our interests by your folly and weakness. The 
 cashier will settle with you, and our relations end here and 
 now. ' ' 
 
 " You will bitterly repent of this injustice," Mr. Jocelyn 
 replied haughtily. ' ' You are discharging a man of un 
 usual business capacity one whose acquaintance with the
 
 WAXING AND WANING MANHOOD. 281 
 
 South is well nigh universal, and whose combinations were 
 on the eve of securing enormous returns. ' ' 
 
 " We will forego all these advantages. Good-morning, 
 sir. Did you ever see such effrontery ?" he continued, after 
 Mr. Jocelyn had departed with a lofty and contemptuous air. 
 
 " It's not effrontery it's opium," said the physician 
 sadly. " You should see the abject misery of the poor 
 wretch after the effects of the drug have subsided." 
 
 ' ' I have no wish to see him again under any aspect, and 
 heartily thank you for unmasking him. We must look at 
 once into our affairs, and see how much mischief he has 
 done. If he wants the aid and respect of decent men, let him 
 give up his vile practice." 
 
 " That's easier said than done," the physician replied 
 " Very few ever give it up who have gone as far as this 
 man."
 
 282 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A SLAVE. 
 
 r I ""HE physician was right. A more abject and pitiable 
 A spectacle than Mr. Jocelyn could scarcely have been 
 found among the miserable unfortunates of a city noted for 
 its extremes in varied condition. Even in his false excite 
 ment he was dimly aware that he was facing a dreadful 
 emergency, and, following an instinctive desire for solitude so 
 characteristic of those in his condition, he took a room in an 
 obscure hotel and gave himself up to thoughts that grew more 
 and more painful as the unnatural dreams inspired by opium 
 shaped themselves gradually into accord with the actualities 
 of his life. 
 
 For a month or two past he had been swept almost un 
 resistingly down the darkening and deepening current of his 
 sin. Whenever he made some feeble, vacillating effort to re 
 duce his allowance of the drug, he became so wretched, 
 irritable, and unnatural in manner that his family were full of 
 perplexed wonder and solicitude. To hide his weakness 
 from his wife was his supreme desire ; and yet, if he stopped 
 were this possible the whole wretched truth would 
 be revealed. Each day he had been tormented with the 
 feeling that something must be done, and yet nothing had 
 been done. He had only sunk deeper and deeper, as with 
 the resistless force of gravitation. 
 
 His vague hope, his baseless dream that something would 
 occur which would make reform easier or the future clearer,
 
 A SLAVE, 283 
 
 had now been dissipated utterly, and every moment with 
 more terrible distinctness revealed to him the truth that he 
 had lost his manhood. The vice was already stamped on 
 his face and manner, so that an experienced eye could detect 
 it at once ; soon all would see the degrading brand. He, 
 who had once been the soul of honor and truth, had lied 
 that day again and again, and the thought pierced him like 
 a sword. 
 
 And now, after his useless falsehoods, what should he do ? 
 He was no longer unacquainted with his condition few 
 opium victims are, at his advanced stage of the habit and 
 he knew well how long and terrible would be the ordeal of a 
 radical cure, even if he had the will-power to attempt it. He 
 had, of late, taken pains to inform himself of the experience 
 of others who had passed down the same dark, slippery path, 
 and when he tried to diminish instead of increasing his doses 
 of morphia, he had received fearful warnings of the awful 
 chasm that intervened between himself and safety. 
 
 A few opium consumers can go on for years in comparative 
 tranquillity if they will avoid too great excess, and carefully 
 increase their daily allowance so as not to exhibit too marked 
 alternations of elation and depression. Now and then, per 
 sons of peculiar constitution can maintain the practice a long 
 time without great physical or moral deterioration ; but no 
 habitue can stop without sufferings prolonged and more pain 
 ful than can be described. Sooner or later, even those na 
 tures which offer the strongest resistance to the ravages of the 
 poison succumb, and pass hopelessly to the same destruction. 
 Mr. Jocelyn's sanguine, impulsive temperament had little 
 capacity for resistance to begin with, and he had during the 
 last year used the drug freely and constantly, thus making 
 downward advances in months that in some instances require 
 years of moderate indulgence. Moreover, as with alcohol, 
 many natures have an unusual and morbid craving for opium
 
 284 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 after once acquiring the habit of its use. Their appetite 
 demands it with an imperiousness which will not be denied, 
 even while in soul they recoil and loathe the bondage. This 
 was especially true of Mr. Jocelyn. The vice in his case was 
 wrecking a mind and heart naturally noble and abounding in 
 the best impulses. He was conscious, too, of this demorali 
 zation, and suffered almost as greatly as would a true, pure 
 woman, if, by some fatal necessity, she were compelled to 
 live a life of crime. 
 
 He had already begun to shrink from the companionship 
 of his family. The play and voices of his little children 
 jarred his shattered nerves almost beyond endurance ; and 
 every look of love and act of trust became a stinging irritant 
 instead of the grateful incense that had once filled his home 
 with perfume. In bitter self-condemnation he saw that he 
 was ceasing to be a protector to his daughters, and that un 
 less he could break the dark, self-woven spells he would 
 drag them down to the depths of poverty, and then leave 
 them exposed to the peculiar temptations which, in a great 
 city, ever assail girls so young, beautiful, and friendless. Mil 
 dred, he believed, would die rather than sin ; but he often 
 groaned in spirit as he thought of Belle. Their considerate 
 self-denial that he might not be disturbed after his return 
 from business, and their looks of solicitude, pierced him daily 
 with increasing torture ; and the knowledge that he added to 
 the monotony of their lives and the irksomeness of their pov 
 erty oppressed him with a dejection that was relieved only by 
 the cause of all his troubles. 
 
 But the thought of his loving, trusting, patient wife was 
 the most unendurable of all. He had loved her from the first 
 as his own soul, and her love and respect were absolutely 
 essential to him, and yet he was beginning to recoil from her 
 with a strange and unnatural force. He felt that he had no 
 right to touch her while she remained so true and he was so
 
 A SLAVE. 285 
 
 false. He dreaded her loving gaze more than a detective's 
 cold, searching eye. He had already deceived her in regard 
 to the marks of the hypodermic needle, assuring her that they 
 were caused by a slight impurity in his blood, and she never 
 questioned anything he said. He often lay awake through 
 interminable nights the drug was fast losing its power to 
 produce quiet sleep trembling and cold with apprehension 
 of the hour when she would become aware that her husband 
 was no longer a man, but the most degraded of slaves. She 
 might learn that she was leaning, not even on a frail reed, 
 but on a poisoned weapon that would pierce her heart It 
 seemed to him that he would rather die than meet that hour 
 when into her gentle eyes would come the horror of the dis 
 covery, and in fact the oft-recurring thought of it all had 
 caused more pain than a hundred deaths. 
 
 Could he go home now and reveal his degradation ? Great 
 drops of cold perspiration drenched him at the bare thought 
 The icy waters, the ooze and mud of the river seemed prefer 
 able. He could not openly continue his vice in the presence 
 of his family, nor could he conceal it much longer, and the 
 attempt to stop the drug, even gradually, would transform 
 him almost into a demon of irritability and perhaps violence, 
 so frightful is the rebellion of the physical nature against the 
 abstinence essential to a final cure. 
 
 At last he matured and carried out the following plan : 
 Returning to the firm that had employed him, he told them 
 of his purpose to go South among his old acquaintances and 
 begin life anew, and of his belief that a sea voyage and change 
 of scene would enable him to break the habit ; and he so 
 worked upon their sympathies that they promised to say 
 nothing of his weakness, and not to let the past stand in his 
 way if he would redeem himself. 
 
 Then fortifying his nerves carefully with morphia he went 
 home and broached the project to his wife and Mildred,
 
 286 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 plausibly advancing the idea that the change might restore his 
 failing health. To his relief they did not oppose his scheme, 
 for indeed they felt that something must be done speedily to 
 arrest his decline ; and although the separation would be 
 hard for the wife to endure, and would become a source of 
 increased anxiety for a time, it was much better than seeing 
 him fail so steadily before her eyes. His plan promised im 
 provement in their fortunes and cure of the mysterious disease 
 that was slowly sapping his life. Therefore she tearfully 
 consented that he should go, and if the way opened favorably 
 it was decided that the family should follow him. 
 
 The only question now was to raise the money required ; 
 and to accomplish this they sold the household effects still 
 in storage, and Mildred, without a word, disposed of the 
 most of her jewelry and brought the proceeds to her father ; 
 for the gold and gems worn in days that accorded with their 
 lustre were as nothing to her compared with her father' s life 
 and health. 
 
 " I would turn my blood into gold if I could, father," 
 she said, with swimming eyes, "if it would only make you 
 well and strong as you once were." 
 
 The man's hand so trembled that he could scarcely receive 
 the money. When by himself he groaned, ' ' Oh, how awful 
 and deep will be the curse of God if I turn this money 
 against her by using it for the damnedest poison the devil 
 ever brewed !" and he wrapped it up separately with a 
 shudder. 
 
 A few days later, with many tears and clinging embraces, 
 they parted with him, his wife whispering in his ear at the 
 last moment, " Martin, my every breath will be a prayer for 
 your safety and health. ' ' 
 
 Under the influence of the powerful emotions inspired by 
 this last interview he threw his hypodermic syringe and mor 
 phia bottle overboard from the deck of the steamer, saying,
 
 A SLAVE. 287 
 
 with a desperate resolution which only an opium slave could 
 understand, " I'll break the habit for one week if I die for 
 it, ' ' and he sailed away into what seemed a region of un 
 imaginable horrors, dying ten thousand deaths in the in 
 describable anguish of his mind and body. The winter storm 
 that soon overtook the ship was magnified by his disordered 
 intellect until its uproar was appalling in the last degree. 
 The people on the vessel thought him demented, and for a 
 few days the captain kept him under a continuous guard, 
 and considerately suppressed the cause of his behavior, that 
 was soon revealed by requests for opium that were sometimes 
 pitiful pleadings and again irritable demands. He soon 
 passed into a condition approaching collapse, vomiting in 
 cessantly, and insane in his wild restlessness. Indeed he 
 might have died had not the captain, in much doubt and 
 anxiety, administered doses of laudanum which, in his in 
 experience, were appalling in their amount. 
 
 At last, more dead than alive, with racking pains, shiver- 
 ings and exhaustion from prolonged insomnia, he was taken 
 ashore in a Southern city and a physician summoned, who, 
 with a promptness characteristic of the profession, administered 
 a preparation of morphia, and the old fatal spell was renewed 
 at once. The vitiated system that for days had been largely 
 deprived of its support seized upon the drug again with a 
 craving as irresistible as the downward rush of a torrent 
 The man could no more control his appetite than he could 
 an Atlantic tide. It overwhelmed his enervated will at once, 
 and now that morphine could be obtained he would have it 
 at any and every cost. Of course he seemingly improved 
 rapidly under its influence, and cunningly disguising his con 
 dition from the physician, soon dismissed him and resumed 
 his old habits. He felt that it was impossible to endure the 
 horrors of total abstinence, and, now that he was no longer 
 under the observation of his family, he again tried to satisfy his
 
 f88 WITHOUT A HOME 
 
 conscience by promising himself that he would gradually re 
 duce the amount used until he could discontinue it utterly 
 delusive hope, that has mocked thousands like himself. If 
 he could have gone to an asylum and surrounded his infirm 
 will by every possible safeguard, he might have been carried 
 through the inevitable period of horrible depression ; but even 
 then the habit had become so confirmed that his chances 
 would have been problematical, for experience sadly proves 
 that confirmed opium-consumers are ever in danger of a 
 relapse.
 
 NEW YORK'S HUMANITY. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 NEW YORK'S HUMANITY. 
 
 MRS. JOCELYN drooped in her husband's absence, for 
 every year had increased her sense of dependence. She- 
 felt somewhat like one who is drifting on a wreck. If the 
 sea would only remain calm, all might be well ; but the sea 
 never is at rest very long, and if storms, dangers, and emer 
 gencies occurred what would she do ? 
 
 Each day that passed without word from her husband grew 
 longer, and when at last a letter came it was vague and un 
 satisfactory. He hoped he was better ; he hoped to find a 
 foothold ; and then came again several days of silence which 
 were almost as oppressive to Mildred as to herself. 
 
 Meanwhile their funds were failing fast, and they both felt 
 that they ought not to sell anything else for mere living ex 
 penses. More critical emergencies might arise and find them 
 destitute. If Mr. Jocelyn should become seriously ill in the 
 South, they must be in a position to have him cared for and 
 brought home. Mildred with extreme reluctance was com 
 pelled to face the necessity of giving up her studies so that 
 she might earn something at once. She had about decided 
 to reveal her troubles to Miss Wetheridge, when a hasty note 
 from her friend swept away all immediate chance of aid in 
 that direction. ' ' The gentleman to whom I was soon to be 
 married, ' ' she wrote, ' ' has not been strong for a year past, 
 and a few days since he was taken with a hemorrhage from 
 his lungs. His physician ordered him to go immediately to
 
 2go WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Nassau. In accordance with our mutual wishes we were 
 married quietly in the presence of a few relatives, and by 
 the time this note reaches you we shall be on our way to 
 the South. My heart is burdened with anxiety, and my 
 hourly prayer is that God will spare the life of one so dear to 
 me. I wish I could see you before I sail, but it is impossi 
 ble. I have had to leave almost everything undone. Write 
 me often." 
 
 This note threw Mildred on her own resources. She felt 
 that Mr. Wentworth could do little for her beyond certifying 
 to her character, for he was the pastor of a congregation of 
 which a large proportion were as poor as herself. There was 
 naught to do but go to work like the others in uncomplain 
 ing silence and earn her bread. 
 
 One evening she learned from Belle that the increased 
 trade incident to the approaching holiday season had ren 
 dered more help necessary, and that one large shop on Sixth 
 Avenue had already made known this need. When the 
 doors opened the following morning, Mildred was among 
 the crowd of applicants, and her appearance was so much in 
 her favor that she was engaged at once on a salary of six dol 
 lars a week. Only immediate necessity could have induced 
 her to take this step, for she justly doubted her ability to en 
 dure the strain of standing continuously. The shop, how 
 ever, was full of girls as frail-looking as herself, and it was 
 the only certainty of support within her reach. Her mother 
 cried bitterly over the step, and she, also, could not hide a 
 few tears, brave as she tried to be ; but she said resolutely, 
 " I'm no better than hundreds of others, and if they can 
 endure it I can and will, for a while at least. ' ' 
 
 The first day was one that she never forgot. The bright 
 sun and clear, bracing atmosphere brought out crowds of 
 shoppers, but the air of the store soon became vitiated, hot, 
 and lifeless. In this close, stifling place she was compelled
 
 NEW YORK'S HUMANITY. 2gi 
 
 to stand, elbowed by other girls who were strangers to her, 
 and too busy or too indifferent to aid materially her in 
 experienced efforts to learn her duties. She made blunders, 
 for which she was scolded ; she grew bewildered and faint, 
 and when the few moments of nooning came she could not 
 eat the lunch her mother had prepared. If she could only 
 have had a cup of strong coffee she might have got through 
 the day ; but her employers were much too thrifty to fur 
 nish such a luxury, and she was too tired, and the time 
 allotted her much too brief to permit its quest. Therefore 
 she tried to rest a little from the intolerable fatigue and pain 
 of standing, and to collect her thoughts. 
 
 The afternoon crush of customers was greater even than 
 that which had crowded the counters in the morning, and she 
 grew more and more bewildered under the confused fire of 
 questions .and orders. If any one had had the time or heart to 
 observe, there would have been seen in her eyes the pathetic, 
 fearful look of some timid creature of the woods when harried 
 and driven to bay by hounds. 
 
 Suddenly everything grew black before her eyes ; the piled- 
 up goods, the chattering throng, faded, and she sank to the 
 floor there was no room for her to fall. 
 
 When she revived she found that she had been carried to 
 the cloak-room, in which the girls ate their lunch, and that a 
 woman was kneeling beside her applying restoratives. In a 
 few moments one of the managers looked in and asked, in 
 an off-hand way, ' ' How is she getting on ?' ' 
 
 With the instinct of self-preservation Mildred sat up, and 
 pleaded, ' ' Indeed, sir, I' m better. It was all so strange 
 the air was close. I beg of you not to discharge me. I will 
 learn soon." 
 
 " Oh, don't be so worried," the man replied good- 
 naturedly. " It's nothing new to have a girl faint on the 
 first day. You'll get used to it by and by like the rest
 
 *9 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Will you be well enough to walk home, or shall I have a 
 carriage ordered ?' ' 
 
 " Please don't get a carriage. It would frighten mamma 
 terribly, and she would not let me come back, and I must 
 come, for we need every penny I can earn. ' ' 
 
 " Well, now, that's sensible, and you save the carriage 
 hire also. You' re a fine-looking, plucky girl, and I' 11 give 
 you a place at the lace counter, near the door, where the air 
 is better and the work lighter (and where her pretty face will 
 do us no harm, ' ' he added mentally). 
 
 " You are very kind, sir, and I can't tell you how much I 
 thank you. ' ' 
 
 " All right, you'll get into training and do as well as the 
 best, so don' t be discouraged, ' ' and the man had the grace 
 or business thrift probably a blending of both to send her 
 a cup of coffee. 
 
 She was then left to rest, and go home when she felt like it 
 As early as she dared without exciting her mother' s suspicions, 
 she crept away, almost as the wounded slowly and painfully 
 leave a field of battle. Her temples still throbbed ; in all her 
 body there was a slight muscular tremor, or beating sensa 
 tion, and her step faltered from weakness. To her delicate 
 organization, already reduced by anxiety, sedentary life, and 
 prolonged mental effort, the strain and nervous shock of that 
 day's experiences had been severe indeed. 
 
 To hide the truth from her despondent mother was now 
 her chief hope and aim. Her fatigue she would not attempt 
 to disguise, for that would be unnatural. It was with diffi 
 culty she climbed the one flight of stairs that led to their 
 room, but her wan face was smiling as she pushed open the 
 door and kissed her mother in greeting. Then throwing her 
 self on the lounge she cried gayly, " Come, little mother, 
 give me an old maid's panacea for every ill of life a cup of 
 strong tea."
 
 NEW YORK'S HUMANITY. 293 
 
 " Millie/' cried Mrs. Jocelyn, bending over her with moist 
 eyes. " you look pale and gone-like " 
 
 " Oh no, mamma, I'm here a good hundred and ten 
 pounds of me, more or less. ' ' 
 
 " But how did you get through the day ?" 
 
 " You will hardly believe it," was the reassuring reply ; 
 " I've been promoted already from work that was hard and 
 coarse to the lace counter, which is near the door, where one 
 can breathe a little pure air. If the goods were as second 
 hand as the air they would not have a customer. But, 
 come, mamma dear, I'm too tired to talk, and would rather 
 eat, and especially drink. These surely are good symptoms. ' ' 
 
 " Millie, you are a soldier, as we used to say during the 
 war, ' ' said Mrs. Jocelyn, hastening the preparations for sup 
 per ; " but you cannot deceive a mother's eyes. You are 
 more exhausted than you even realize yourself. Oh, I do 
 wish there was some other way. I'd give all the world if I 
 had Mrs. Wheaton's stout red arms, for I'd rather wash all 
 day and half the night than see you and Belle so burdened 
 early in life. ' ' 
 
 " I wouldn't have my beautiful mamma changed even by 
 one gray hair," was the very natural response. 
 
 Belle nearly rendered futile all of Mildred's efforts to hide 
 the worst from her mother ; for, after her duties were over, 
 she went eagerly to the shop where she expected to find her 
 sister. Having learned that Miss Jocelyn had fainted and 
 had gone home some time in the afternoon, she sped almost 
 breathlessly after her, and burst into the room with the words, 
 "Millie! Millie!" 
 
 Fortunately Mrs. Jocelyn was busy over the stove at the 
 moment and did not see Mildred's strong cautionary gesture 
 but Belle's perceptions were almost instantaneous, and with 
 one significant glance of her dark eyes she entered into th 
 loving conspiracy.
 
 294 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " What is it, Belle?" was Mrs. Jocelyn's anxious query. 
 
 "I'm wild to know how Millie has got on the first day, and 
 whether she has a big fight on her hands as I had. If she has, 
 I declare war, too, against all the powers and principalities 
 not of the air, for there wasn't a breath of it in our store to 
 day. We've had a crush, and I'm half dead from trying to 
 do two days' work in one. Ten minutes for lunch. Scores of 
 cross customers all wanting to be waited on at once, and the 
 floor-walkers flying around like hens bereft of heads, which, 
 after all, are never of much use to either. In spite of all, 
 here we are, mamma, ready for a cup of your good tea and 
 other fixin's. Now, Millie, it's your turn. I've let off 
 enough steam to be safe till after supper. Have you made 
 cruel enemies to-day, from whom you desire my protection ?' ' 
 
 "No, Belle," said Mildred, laughing; " I haven' t your 
 force and brilliancy, and have made but a humdrum begin 
 ning. I was so stupid at one counter that they transferred 
 me to another, and I'm glad of it, for laces are pretty, and 
 taking care of them wouldn' t seem like drudgery at all. Best 
 of all, it's near the door, and every customer will give me a 
 sustaining breath. ' ' 
 
 " Millie is standing it capitally for a beginner," Belle re 
 marked, with the air of a veteran, as Mildred eagerly drank 
 her cup of tea and asked for more. ' ' I was so tired the first 
 night that it seemed as if I could scarcely swallow a mouth 
 ful." 
 
 Thus they carried out the little ruse, careful not to exag 
 gerate, for Mrs. Jocelyn's intuitions were quick. 
 
 As it was she looked at her child with many misgivings, 
 but she tried for their sakes to be cheerful, and praised the 
 courage and spirit of both the girls, assuring them that they 
 showed their true Southern blood, and that they reminded her 
 of their father when, during his brief visits, he talked over the 
 long, hard campaigns.
 
 NEW YORK'S HUMANITY. 295 
 
 At last they were in the privacy of their own room, and 
 Mildred, as if she were the weaker and younger, buried her 
 face on her sister's shoulder and sobbed despairingly, " Oh, 
 Belle, you are the stronger. I fear I can' t stand it at all. 
 I've suffered more to-day than in all my life, and my feet 
 and back still ache oh, I can' t tell you. ' ' 
 
 The child soothed and comforted her, and said she had 
 suffered just the same at first, and often still she felt that if 
 she could not sit down for a few moments she would drop 
 down ; " but there, Millie," she concluded, with the best 
 philosophy the case admitted of, " you get used to it grad 
 ually you can get used to anything. ' ' 
 
 " I don't believe lean," was the dejected reply, "and 
 yet I must, if we would have shelter and bread. Oh that we 
 might hear some good news from papa ! Why don' t he write 
 oftener ? I fear it is because he has nothing cheering to tell 
 us." 
 
 The next morning, in spite of all effort, Mildred was too 
 ill and lame to rise, but she instructed Belle to assure her 
 employer that she would come the following day. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn tried hard to persuade her not to go back at 
 all, and at last Mildred grew a little stern and said emphat 
 ically, " Please say no more, mamma. We can afford none 
 of this weak nonsense. I must earn my bread, as do other 
 girls, and have no time to lose.'' 
 
 The following day, fortunately, was so stormy that cus 
 tomers were scattering, and Mildred had a chance to gain 
 an idea of her duties and to rest a little from time to time, 
 for out of consideration of the facts that she had been ill and 
 was a beginner, she was permitted to sit down occasionally. 
 She was so attractive in appearance, and had brought such 
 an excellent certificate of character, that the proprietors were 
 inclined to be lenient, and smooth a little the harsh and 
 thorny path of a beginner.
 
 9 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 And so the weary days dragged on, and she slowly ac 
 quired the power to stand as did the others. They were 
 days, however, which ended in a close approach to agony, 
 from which the nights brought but slight and temporary 
 relief, for so great was the pain in her feet and back that she 
 would moan even in her sleep. Her sufferings were scarcely 
 less than at first, but, as Belle said, she was " getting used " 
 to them. 
 
 It is a well-known fact that many would persist in living 
 in spite of all the tortures of the Inquisition. I wonder if 
 the old-time inquisitors and their ' ' familiars' ' were ingenious 
 enough to compel delicate women to stand and talk all day, 
 and sometimes part of the night ? 
 
 In very truth, the poor girl was earning her bread by tor 
 ture, and she soon found that she had many companions in 
 suffering who, with woman's capacity for the patient endur 
 ance of pain, made the best of their lot, often trying to for 
 get themselves in jests, laughter, and gossip, planning, mean 
 while, in odd moments, for some snatch at the few pleasures 
 that their brief evenings permitted pleasures, too often, in 
 which Mildred could or would take no part. While her 
 gentleness and courtesy to all gave no cause for hostility, her 
 air of quiet aloofness and her recognized superiority prevented 
 her from becoming a favorite, nor did the many admiring 
 looks and even open advances that she received from the 
 young men in the store, and occasionally from customers, 
 add to her popularity. The male clerks soon found, how 
 ever, that beyond the line warranted by their mutual duties 
 she was utterly unapproachable, and not a few of them 
 united in the view held by the girls, that she was " stuck 
 up" ; but since she was not in the least above her business, 
 no one could complain openly. 
 
 As one long, exceedingly busy and weary day was drawing 
 to a close, however, she received a sharp reprimand. A
 
 NEW YORK'S HUMANITY. 297 
 
 gentleman had agreed to meet his wife at the shop as he 
 came up town, in order that they might together make pro 
 vision for Christmas. The lady having nearly accomplished 
 her round, and having proved herself a liberal purchaser, she 
 was naturally accompanied toward the door by a very 
 amiable foreman, who was profuse in his thanks. Suddenly 
 it occurred to her that she would look at the laces, and she 
 approached Mildred, who, in a momentary respite, was 
 leaning back against the shelves with closed eyes, weary be 
 yond all words of description. 
 
 ' ' Will you please wake that young woman up, ' ' the lady 
 remarked, a little sharply. 
 
 This the foreman did, in a way that brought what little 
 blood the poor girl had left into her face. The shopper sat 
 down on the plush seat before the counter, and was soon 
 absorbed in the enticing wares, while her husband stood be 
 side her and stole sidelong glances at the weary but beautiful 
 face of the saleswoman. 
 
 " Jupiter Ammon," he soliloquized mentally, "but she 
 is pretty ! If that flush would only last, she'd be beautiful ; 
 but she's too pale and fagged for that out to a ball last night, 
 I imagine. She don't even notice that a man's admiring her 
 proof, indeed, that she must have danced till near morning, 
 if not worse. What lives these girls lead, if half the stories 
 are true ! I'd like to see that one rested, fresh, and becom 
 ingly dressed. She'd make a sensation in a Fifth Avenue 
 drawing-room if she had the sense to keep her mouth shut, 
 and not show her ignorance and under-breeding. ' ' 
 
 But he was growing impatient, and at last said, " Oh, 
 come, my dear, you've bought enough to break me already. 
 We' 11 be late for dinner. ' ' 
 
 The lady rose reluctantly, and remarked, ' ' Well, I think 
 I'll come and look at these another day," and they were 
 bowed out of the door.
 
 298 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 'You must be more alert," said the foreman, impera 
 tively, to Mildred. " These people are among the best and 
 wealthiest in town." 
 
 "I'll try," was the meek answer. 
 
 The gentleman had hardly reached the sidewalk, however, 
 before all his chivalry and indignation were aroused. Under 
 the press of Christmas times a drayman had overloaded his 
 cart, and the horse was protesting in his dumb way by refus 
 ing to budge an inch ; meanwhile the owner proved himself 
 scarcely equal to the animal he drove by furious blows and 
 curses, which were made all the more reckless by his recent 
 indulgence in liquor. 
 
 The poor beast soon found many champions, and fore 
 most among them was the critic of the weary shop-girl, who 
 had suffered more that day than the horse was capable of 
 suffering in his lifetime. The distinguished citizen, justly 
 irate, I grant, sent his wife home in their carriage, and declared 
 that he would neither eat nor sleep until he had seen the 
 brute the drayman, not the horse arrested and locked up, 
 and he kept his word. 
 
 Much later, the wronged and tortured human creature of 
 whom he had surmised evil, and on whom he had bestowed 
 at best only a little cynical admiration, crept home with steps 
 that faltered, burdened with a heaviness of heart and a wea 
 riness of body which could be measured only by the pitiful 
 eye of Him who carries the world's sins and sorrows. 
 
 The rescued horse munched his oats in stolid tranquillity ; 
 the woman raised to heaven her eyes, beneath which were 
 dark, dark lines, and murmured, ' ' O God, how long ?' '
 
 THE SEA TITUDES OF OPIUM. 299 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE BEATITUDES OF OPIUM. 
 
 AT least once each week Roger took Belle to some even 
 ing entertainment, selecting places that, while inno 
 cent, were in keeping with their years full of color, life, and 
 interest. The young girl improved at once, as the result of 
 this moderate gratification of a craving that was as proper as it 
 was natural. The sense of being restricted and arbitrarily 
 shut away from the pleasures belonging to her youth no 
 longer worked like a subtle and evil ferment in her mind. 
 The repressed and unhappy are in tenfold more danger from 
 temptation than those who feel they are having their share of 
 life's good. The stream that cannot flow in the sunshine 
 seeks a subterranean channel, and in like manner when cir 
 cumstances, or the inconsiderate will of others, impose un 
 relenting restraint upon the exuberant spirit of youth, it 
 usually finds some hidden outlet which cannot bear the light 
 Until Roger came, circumstances had restricted Belle within 
 such a narrow and colorless life, and she was growing very 
 discontented with her lot a dangerous tendency. Through 
 all this long ordeal her mother and Mildred had retained her 
 sympathy, for she knew that they were not to blame, and 
 that they were right in protesting against all acquaintances 
 and amusements which involved danger. Now that she and 
 Roger occasionally had a merry time together, and a confi 
 dential chat on Sunday, she accepted her long days of toil 
 without complaint.
 
 300 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 The wholesome and tonic influence of a few hours of pos 
 itive and unalloyed enjoyment in a busy or burdened life is 
 properly estimated by a very few. Multitudes would preach 
 better, live better, do more work and die much later, could 
 they find some innocent recreation to which they could often 
 give themselves up with something of the whole-hearted 
 abandon of a child. 
 
 Belle now had pleasures to look forward to, or some bright 
 scene to live over again, and, were it not for her sympathy 
 for her sister and anxiety on her father's behalf, her brow 
 would have been serene. 
 
 To Mildred, however, the days were growing darker and 
 the way more thorny. She was gaining only in the power of 
 endurance ; she was unconsciously developing the trait that 
 bade fair to become the key-note of her life fidelity. It 
 was her absolute loyalty to her long-cherished love that pre 
 vented her from accepting invitations to go with Belle and 
 Roger. Through all disguises she saw that the latter was a 
 lover and not a friend, and while she had learned to respect 
 him much more, she shrank from him none the less. True, 
 therefore, to her womanly instincts, and pathetically patient 
 with a life full of pain and weariness, she faltered on toward 
 a future that seemed to promise less and less. Roger did 
 not need to be told by Belle of Mildred's burdened life, 
 although the young girl did speak of it often with sad and 
 indignant emphasis. " Beautiful Millie, who would grace 
 the finest house in the city," she said, " is as much out of 
 place in this life as if a gazelle were made to do the work of 
 a cart-horse. It's just killing her." 
 
 " It's not the work that's harming her so much as the 
 accursed brutality which permits more cruelty to white women 
 than was ever inflicted on black slaves. If the shopkeepers 
 owned these girls who serve their counters they would pro 
 vide them seats instantly, on the same principle that some of
 
 THE BEA TITUDES OF OPIUM. 3 O1 
 
 your Southern people, wno had no humanity, cared well for 
 their human property ; but these fellows know that when a 
 girl breaks down they can take their pick from twenty appli 
 cants the next morning. If I could scalp a few of these 
 woman-murderers, I'd sleep better to-night. Oh, Belle, 
 Belle, if you knew how it hurts me to see such advantage 
 taken of Miss Mildred ! I sometimes walk the streets for 
 hours chafing and raging about it, and yet any expression of 
 my sympathy would only add to her distress. You must 
 never speak to her of me, Belle, except in a casual way, when 
 you cannot help it, for only as I keep aloof, even from her 
 thoughts, can she tolerate me at all. ' ' 
 
 " Be patient, Roger. Millie is unlike many girls, and 
 wants only one lover. Now I'd like half a dozen, more or 
 less, generally more. She's too infatuated with that weak 
 ling, Vinton Arnold, to care for any one else. And to think 
 he hasn't sent her one reassuring word since last summer 1 
 There isn't enough of him to cast a shadow. Catch me 
 moping after such a dim outline of a man ! But it's just like 
 Millie. If he'd only vanish into thin air she might give 
 him up, and perhaps he has." 
 
 " No, he's in Europe, and has been there ever since he 
 left the hotel at Forestville. I learned the fact the other day. 
 He's living in luxury and idleness, while the girl who loves 
 him is earning her bread in a way that's infernal in its 
 cruelty. ' ' 
 
 " How did you find that out ?" Belle asked quickly. 
 
 " It was in no mean or underhand way, and no knowl 
 edge of my inquiries will ever reach him. I thought she'd 
 like to know, however, and you can tell her, but give her no 
 hint of the source of your information. ' ' 
 
 "Who told you?" was Mildred's prompt response to 
 Belle's news that night, while a sudden bloom in her pale 
 face showed how deeply the tidings interested her.
 
 302 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " No matter how I learned the fact," replied Belle a little 
 bsusquely ; " it's true. He wouldn't lift his little finger to 
 keep you from starving." 
 
 " You wrong him," cried Mildred passionately ; " and I 
 don't wish you ever to speak of him again. I know who 
 told you : it was Roger Atwood, and I wish he would leave 
 me and my affairs alone. He is singularly stupid and ill- 
 bred to meddle in such a matter." 
 
 " He has not meddled," retorted Belle indignantly, and 
 wholly off her guard ; " he thought you might like to know 
 the truth, and he learned it in a way that left no trace. 
 When you are in the streets you are always looking for Mr. 
 Arnold (it's a pity he wasn't doing a little looking, too), 
 and now your mind can be at ease. He isn't sick or dead ; 
 he's entirely safe and having a good time, faring sumptuously 
 every day, while you are dying by inches for little more than 
 bread and a nook in a tenement-house. I don't care what 
 you say, I detest such a man. ' ' 
 
 Mildred's overtaxed nerves gave way at Belle's harsh and 
 prosaic words, and throwing herself on her couch she sobbed 
 so bitterly that the inconsiderate child, in deep compunc 
 tion, coaxed and pleaded with her not " to take it so hard," 
 and ended by crying in sympathy, almost as heartily as Mil 
 dred herself. The latter was completely disarmed of her 
 anger by Belle's feeling ; and, indeed, as she came to think 
 it all over, it did not seem so like desertion on Arnold's part, 
 since he might have written from Europe and the letter have 
 failed to reach her. That he should have been in New York 
 all this time and have made no effort to find her would seem 
 heartless indeed. At any rate, with her rare fidelity and 
 faith, she would believe nothing against him without absolute 
 proof 
 
 But of Roger Atwood she thought resentfully, " He 
 reads my very thoughts. He has seen me looking: for Vin-
 
 THE BE A TITUDES OF OPIUM. 33 
 
 ton half-unconsciously when in the streets. He keeps him 
 self in the background, and no doubt thinks himself very 
 distant and considerate ; but I can scarcely turn in any direc 
 tion but I see his shadow, or meet with some indication that 
 he is watching and waiting." 
 
 There was more truth in her words than she half suspected. 
 His duties required that he should be down town very early 
 in the morning, but he was usually released in the afternoon, 
 for his uncle tacitly humored his desire for study. Scarcely 
 an evening elapsed that the young man did not pass and re- 
 pass the shop in which Mildred was employed, for through 
 the lighted windows he could see the object of his thoughts 
 unobserved, and not infrequently he followed her as she 
 wearily returned homeward, and his heart ached with the im 
 potent desire to lighten the burdens of her life. He feared 
 that she would never accept of his watchful care or thank 
 him for it ; but love is its own reward, and impels to action 
 that does not well stand the test of the world's prosaic judg 
 ment. Beyond this brief and furtive gratification of his pas 
 sion, he lost no time in sighing or sentiment, but bent his 
 mind to his tasks with such well-directed and persistent en 
 ergy that the commission merchant occasionally nodded sig 
 nificantly ; for, in accordance with his habit, he took counsel 
 of no one except himself. 
 
 It was Roger's hope that, eventually, Mildred, for her own 
 sake, could be persuaded to accompany Belle on some of 
 their pursuits of evening recreation, and he suggested that 
 the latter should persistently try to induce her to go, say 
 ing that her health and success in the future required 
 more change and cheerfulness ; but Mildred always said 
 " No," with a quiet emphasis which admitted of no argu 
 ment 
 
 In truth, when evening came she was too weary to go with 
 him or with any one else, and the first Sunday after her
 
 304 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 duties at the shop began she could not be present at the 
 chapel and meet her class.* 
 
 Mr. Wentworth called, fearing she was ill. She explained 
 in part, and he was quick to understand. His brow dark 
 ened in such a frown that the poor girl grew frightened, and 
 began : " Indeed, Mr. Wentworth, do not judge me harshly, 
 or think that I let a trifle keep me " 
 
 Then he awakened to her misapprehension, and coming 
 directly to her side he took her hand, with a face so kind, 
 so full of deep, strong sympathy, that her eyes filled at once. 
 
 " My poor child," he said, " could you imagine I was 
 frowning at you ? brave little soldier that you are, braver 
 and stronger in your way and place than I in mine. God 
 bless you, no. I felt savage to think that in this nineteenth 
 century, and right under the shadow of our church spires, 
 this diabolical cruelty is permitted to go on year after year. 
 Oh, I know all about it, Miss Mildred : you are not the first 
 one by hundreds and hundreds. I wish I could give you 
 more than sympathy, and that some other way would open 
 we must find some other way for you but you have no 
 idea how many are worse off in these bad times than you are 
 worthy people who are willing to work, but cannot get 
 work. If it seems to you that I cannot do very much foi 
 you, remember that there are scores who, for the time, seem 
 to have no resources at all. I trust you may soon hear such 
 tidings from your father as will bring relief to both body 
 and mind. And now, my child, don't let a morbid con 
 science add to your burdens. When you are as greatly in 
 need of rest as you were last Sunday, don' t come to the chapel. 
 I'll take your class, or find a substitute." 
 
 In a few minutes he was gone ; but they were not alone, 
 for he had made them conscious of One who is touched with 
 the feeling of our infirmities. 
 
 How was the absent husband and father fulfilling the
 
 THE BEATITUDES OF OPIUM. 35 
 
 hopes that daily turned to him, but found no reward ? He 
 jras literally writhing under chains that, to his horror, he 
 xmld not break. He had found on shipboard that sudden 
 md complete abstinence from the drug brought a torture of 
 nind and body that he could not endure, and now he was 
 earning, in sickening fear, that he could not gradually re- 
 luce his daily allowance below a certain point without im- 
 nediate sufferings beyond his fortitude to sustain. 
 
 The room in the Inquisition, whose circular walls, studded 
 vith long, sharp spikes, gradually closed upon and pierced 
 he victim, had its spiritual counterpart in his present condi- 
 ion. He was shut in on every side. If he made a push for 
 iberty by abstaining from the drug, he was met and driven 
 back by many nameless agonies. He seemed to recoil, in- 
 2vitably, as if from steel barbs. Meanwhile the walls were 
 :losing in upon him. In order to prevent life from being a 
 :ontinuous burden, in order to maintain even the semblance 
 3f strength and manhood, so that he might have some chance 
 Df finding employment, he had to increase the quantity of 
 morphia daily ; but each succeeding indulgence brought 
 icarer the hour when the drug would produce pain pain 
 3nly, and death. After a week or two of futile and spasmodic 
 effort he drifted on in the old way, occasionally suffering un 
 ;old agony in remorse and self-loathing, but stifling con 
 science, memory, and reason, as far as possible, by continu 
 ous stimulation. 
 
 His quest of employment was naturally unsuccessful. The 
 south was impoverished. Weak from the wounds of war, 
 md the deeper enervation of a system that had poisoned her 
 ife for generations, she had not yet begun to rally. There 
 vas not enough business in the city for the slow and nerve- 
 ess hands of its citizens, therefore there was little prospect for 
 i new-comer, unless he had the capital and energy to create 
 ictivity in the midst of stagnation. A few were slightly im-
 
 36 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 posed upon at first by Mr. Jocelyn's exalted moodg, and be 
 lieved that he might do great things if he were given the 
 chance ; but they soon recognized that he was unsound and 
 visionary, broaching plans and projects that varied widely 
 with each succeeding interview. The greater number of his 
 former friends and acquaintances were scattered or dead, and 
 those who remembered him had their hands too full to do 
 more than say a good word for him saying it, too, more and 
 more faintly as they saw how broken and untrustworthy he 
 was. The story of his behavior on the ship, and correct sur 
 mises of the true cause of his manner and appearance, soon 
 became current in business circles, and the half-pitying, half- 
 contemptuous manner of those with whom he came in con 
 tact at last made it clear, even to his clouded mind, that 
 further effort would be utterly useless. 
 
 Meanwhile his habit now began to inflict a punishment 
 that often seemed beyond endurance. The increased quan 
 tities of morphia with which he sought to sustain himself, 
 combined with his anxiety, remorse, and solicitude for his 
 family and his own future, filled the hours of darkness with 
 one long nightmare of horror. His half-sleeping visions 
 were more vivid and real than the scenes of day. From 
 some harrowing illusion he would start up with a groan or 
 cry, only to relapse a few moments later into an apparent sit 
 uation more appalling and desperate. 
 
 The earth would open and swallow him in fathomless 
 darkness ; then he was on a ship caught in a maelstrom and 
 whirled down with a speed imaginable only by a mind as 
 disordered and morbid as his own. Panting, struggling, 
 drenched with a cold perspiration, he would struggle back 
 into a brief and miserable consciousness. With scarcely any 
 respite his diseased imagination would seize him again, and 
 now the ship, with tattered sails and broken masts, would be 
 becalmed in the centre of a cyclone. All around him was
 
 THE BEA TITUDES OF OPIUM. 307 
 
 the whirling tornado from which the vessel had passed inta 
 awful silence and deceptive peace. Although viewless, a 
 resistless volume was circling round him, a revolving torrent 
 of air that might at any second make its existence known by 
 wrenching the ship in some direction with such violence as 
 to destroy it at once. When would the awful suspense be 
 over, and the cyclone, with a peal of thunder through the 
 rigging, again lay its frenzied grasp on the ill-fated ship ? In 
 unspeakable dread he seemed to spring from the deck in the 
 hope of ending all, and would find himself gasping on his 
 couch, which vice had made a place of torture, not rest. 
 
 But the visions which most shook his soul were those con 
 nected with his wife and children. He saw them starving ; 
 he saw them turned into the street, mocked and gibed at by 
 every passer-by. He saw them locked up in prison-cells, 
 under the charge of jailers that were half brute, half fiend ; 
 he saw Fred and Minnie carried off by an Italian padrone to 
 a den reeking with filth, and loud with oaths and obscenity. 
 With a hoarse shout of rage he would spring up to avert 
 blows that were bruising their little forms ; he saw his wife 
 turn her despairing eyes from heaven and curse the hour 
 of their union ; he saw Mildred,, writhing and resisting, 
 dragged from her home by great dark hands that were claws 
 rather than hands ; worse than all, he saw Belle, dressed in 
 colors that seemed woven from stains of blood, stealing out 
 under the cover of night with eyes like livid coals. 
 
 Such are the beatific visions that opium bestows, having 
 once enchained its victims. Little wonder that, after spend 
 ing nights upon a poisoned rack, Mr. Jocelyn was in no con 
 dition to meet his fellow-men and win their confidence. 
 
 The dark thought crossed his mind more than once that 
 he had better never return home that, since he had lost his 
 manhood, life had better go too ; but in these darkest and 
 most desperate moments the face of his wife would rise be-
 
 308 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 fore him, and from her white lips came the cry, ' ' No ! nc ! 
 no !" with such agonized intensity that he was restrained. 
 
 Moreover, he had not given up hope altogether, and he 
 determined to return, and, unknown to his family, consult 
 his old physician, who had inadvertently led him into this 
 terrible dilemma, and adjure him to undo his work. He 
 might aid in concealing the truth from those from whom, of 
 all others, the unhappy man would hide hi chatne. This 
 seemed his one last chance.
 
 THE SECRET VICE REVEALED. 309 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE SECRET VICE REVEALED. 
 
 ON the day preceding Christmas, late in the afternoon, 
 Roger Atwood boarded a steamer which had just 
 arrived from a Southern city. His uncle, the commission 
 merchant, was expecting a consignment of tropical fruits, 
 and as the young man stood among others waiting to see the 
 freight clerk, he overheard one of the vessel' s officers remark, 
 " His name is Jocelyn so papers on his person indicate 
 and he must be sent to a hospital as soon as possible." 
 
 Advancing promptly to the speaker, Roger said, " I over 
 heard your remark, sir, and think I know the gentleman to 
 whom you refer. If I am right, I will take him to his 
 family immediately." 
 
 The officer acted with such alacrity as to prove that he was 
 very glad to get the sick man off his hands, and Roger noted 
 the fact. A moment later he saw Martin Jocelyn, sadly 
 changed for the worse, and lying unconscious in a berth. 
 
 " I am right, I am very sorry to say," Roger said, after a 
 moment, with a long, deep breath. " This will be a terrible 
 shock to his family." 
 
 " Do you think he is dying ?" the officer asked. 
 
 " I don't know. I will bring a physician and take Mr. 
 Jocelyn home on one condition that our consignment of 
 produce is delivered at once. I must be absent, and my 
 employer's interests must not suffer in consequence. I am 
 doing you a favor, and you must return it just as promptly."
 
 3*0 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 The freight clerk was summoned, and Roger was assured 
 that his uncle's consignment should take the precedence as 
 fast as it could be reached. The young man then hastened 
 to find the nearest physician, stopping a moment at his place 
 of business to give a hurried explanation of his course. Mr. 
 Atwood listened in silence, and nodded merely ; but, as 
 Roger hastened away, he muttered, "This mixing himself 
 up with other people's troubles isn't very shrewd, but his 
 making capital out of it so that my consignment will all be 
 delivered to-night is well, we'll call it even. He's no 
 fool." 
 
 The physician was rather young and inexperienced, and 
 he pronounced Mr. Jocelyn's trouble to be congestion of the 
 brain. He agreed to go with Roger to the old mansion and 
 do what he could for the patient, although holding out slight 
 hope of recovery. 
 
 ' ' She is learning to associate me with misfortune, and 
 will dread my presence as if I were a bird of ill-omen," 
 Roger groaned mentally, as he recalled the several miserable 
 occasions which, in the mind of Mildred, were inseparably 
 connected with himself ; ' ' but some day some day, if I have 
 to strive for a lifetime she shall also learn that it is not I 
 who bring the trouble." 
 
 Christmas comes at the darkest and dreariest season of the 
 year, making short, cold days, and longer, colder nights the 
 holiday season, just as He, whose birth the day commemo 
 rates, comes to human hearts in the darkest and coldest 
 hours of desolation. Even in the great city there were few 
 homes so shadowed by poverty and sorrow that they were 
 not brightened by some indications of the hallowed time. 
 The old mansion, that once may have been embowered in 
 evergreens, was again filled with the aromatic breath of the 
 forest, for Roger had commissioned a friend in the country 
 to send so large a supply to Belle that she was embarrassed
 
 FHE SECRET VICE REVEALED. 3 11 
 
 with riches of hemlock, laurel, and pine, which, although 
 given away prodigally, left enough to transform their rooms 
 into the aspect of bowers. Since they had not money for 
 toys, they could make the Christmas-tide a time of wonder 
 and delight to Fred and Minnie in this inexpensive way, and 
 Mildred, who would naturally shrink from the wild mountain 
 home of the evergreen boughs, found in weaving and arrang 
 ing them into tasteful decorations a pleasure alloyed by only 
 one thought she was indebted for it to Roger Atwood, the 
 silent yet determined rival of the man she loved. Though 
 he buried his feeling in such profound silence, and hid all 
 manifestation so carefully that even her intuition could not lay 
 hold of any one thing, and say, ' ' This proves it, ' ' she never 
 theless felt the presence of his love, and sometimes thought 
 she felt it all the more because of its strong repression. It 
 almost vexed her that he made no advances, and gave her 
 nothing to resent, while all the time he was seeking her with 
 the whole force of his will, or at least waiting for some possi 
 bility of the future. When Belle proposed that he should 
 help decorate their living-room, since they, at this season, 
 had only the remnants of evenings to give, and were wearied, 
 too, almost beyond the power for extra effort, she felt that 
 for Belle's sake she ought not to object, and that for her own 
 sake she could not, so scrupulous had been the quiet, distant 
 respect with which he had treated her. When he came he 
 seemed to anticipate her thoughts and to obey her wishes in 
 the arrangement of the greenery, even before she spoke, so 
 keen was his observation and quick his sympathy with her 
 mind. 
 
 These very facts increased her prejudice and dislike. He 
 was too clever, too keen-sighted and appreciative. Had he 
 been indifferent toward her, and not so observant, she would 
 have soon learned to like him and enjoy his society, for he 
 had a bright, piquant way of talking, and was seldom at a
 
 3" WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 loss for words. In fact, he had plenty of ideas, and was fast 
 gaining more. One reason why Mildred shrank from him 
 in strengthening repulsion was because, in his absorbing in 
 terest and his quick comprehension of her thought and feel 
 ing, he came too near. Without intending it, and in spite 
 of himself, he intruded on her woman's privacy ; for no mat 
 ter how careful he might be, or how guarded she was in 
 words or manner, she felt that he understood what was in 
 her mind. Her natural impulse, therefore, was to shun his 
 presence and suppress her own individuality when she could 
 not escape him, for only an answering affection on her part 
 could make such understanding appreciation acceptable. 
 
 Roger was not long in guessing quite accurately how he 
 stood in her thoughts, and he was often much depressed. 
 As he had said to Clara Bute, he had a downright dislike to 
 contend against, and this might not change with his success. 
 And now it was his misfortune to become associated in her 
 mind with another painful event perhaps a fatal one. She 
 might thank him sincerely for his kindness and the trouble 
 he had taken in their behalf, but, all the same, deep in hei 
 heart, the old aversion would be strengthened. 
 
 "That invertebrate, Arnold," he muttered, "represents 
 to her the old, happy life ; I, her present life, and it's my 
 luck always to appear when things are at their worst After 
 to-night she will shudder with apprehension whenever she 
 sees me. What will become of them if Mr. Jocelyn dies !" 
 
 Full of forebodings and distress at the shock and sorrow 
 impending over those in whom he was so deeply interested, 
 he and the physician placed Mr. Jocelyn in a covered express 
 wagon that was improvised into an ambulance, and drove 
 up town as rapidly as they dared. 
 
 In response to a low knock Mrs. Jocelyn opened the door, 
 and the white, troubled face of Roger announced evil tidings 
 before a word was spoken.
 
 ThE SECRET VICE REVEALED. 313 
 
 " My husband !" she gasped, sinking into a chair. 
 
 The young man knelt beside her and said, " Mrs. Joce- 
 lyn, his life may depend on your courage and fortitude." 
 
 He had touched the right chord, and, after a momentary 
 and half-convulsive sob, she rose quietly, and said, " Tell 
 me what to do tell me the worst ' ' 
 
 " I have brought him with me, and I have a physician 
 also. I found him on a steamer, by accident. They were 
 about to send him to a hospital, but I was sure you would 
 want him brought home." 
 
 ' ' Oh, yes God bless you bring him, bring him quick. * 
 
 " Courage. Good nursing will prevent the worst." 
 
 Roger hastened back to the patient, stopping on the way 
 only long enough to ask Mrs. Wheaton to go to Mrs. Joce- 
 lyn's room instantly, and then, with the physician's aid, he 
 carried the unconscious man to his room, and laid him on 
 his bed. 
 
 " Oh, Martin ! Martin !" moaned the wife, " how changed 
 how changed ! Oh, God ! he's dying." 
 
 "I hope not, madam,' 1 said the physician ; "at any rate 
 we must all keep our self-possession and do our best. While 
 there is life there is hope." 
 
 With dilated eyes, and almost fierce repression of all aid 
 from other hands, she took the clothing from the limp and 
 wasted form. 
 
 "Hew dying," she moaned; "see how unnatural his 
 eyes are ; the pupils are almost gone. Oh, God ! why did 
 I let him go from me when he was so ill !" 
 
 4 ' Would you not like Belle and Miss Mildred summoned 
 at once ?" Roger asked. 
 
 " Yes, yes, they ought to be here now ; every moment 
 may be precious, and he may become conscious. ' ' 
 
 " At the same time I would like you to call on Dr. Benton 
 in Twenty-third Street, " added the physician. "He is a
 
 3H WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 friend of mine, and has had much experience. In so serious 
 a case I would like to consult him." 
 
 Roger, while on his way to Dr. Bcnton's office, passed a 
 livery-stable with a coach standing just within the door, and 
 he at once resolved that the weary girls should not be ex 
 hausted by flying home in tetror-stricken haste. He took 
 the carriage, obtained the physician, and explained to him 
 what had happened while on the way to the shop in which 
 Belle was employed. It was Christmas eve, and the store 
 was still crowded with eleventh-hour purchasers, on whom the 
 weary child was waiting in a jaded, mechanical way. Her 
 vacant look and the dark lines under her eyes proved how 
 exhausted she was ; but at the sight of Roger a flash of 
 light and pleasure came into her face, and then his expres 
 sion caused it to fade into extreme pallor. 
 
 " What is it?" she asked, turning from a garrulous cus 
 tomer. 
 
 " Don't be alarmed ; get your things and come with me. 
 I will make it all right with your employer. " 
 
 " Belle," he said, when they were by the carriage door, 
 " you must be a brave woman to-night. Your father is 
 home, and he is very ill. Perhaps his life depends on quiet 
 and freedom from all excitement. Dr. Benton, an experi 
 enced physician, is in the carriage, and will go with us. You 
 must tell your sister I cannot." 
 
 If Belle had been herself she would not have failed him ; 
 but, after the long strain of the day, she became completely 
 unnerved at his tidings, and sobbed almost hysterically. She 
 could not control herself sufficiently to enter the shop where 
 Mildred stood, unconscious of the approaching shadow, and 
 so the heavy task of breaking the news fell upon Roger. 
 " If Belle, naturally so strong, was white and faint from the 
 long, toilsome day, how wan and ghost-like poor Mildred 
 will appear !" was his thought as he sprang to the sidewalk.
 
 THE SECRET VICE REVEALED. 3*5 
 
 They were closing up, and the discipline of the shop was 
 over. Instead of pallor, there was an angry crimson in Mil 
 dred's cheeks, and an indignant fire in her eyes. She evi 
 dently was deeply incensed, and her companions apparently 
 were as greatly amused. When she saw Roger the crimson 
 deepened in her face, her brow knitted in strong vexation, 
 and she went on with her task of putting the goods under 
 her charge in order, as if she had not seen him ; but the 
 thought flashed through her mind : " Oh that he were to 
 me what he is to Belle ! Then he might punish my in 
 solent persecutor, but he's the last one in the world to whom 
 I can appeal. Oh, where is papa ?" 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn " 
 
 " Don't you see you have another beau ?" whispered one 
 of her companions as she passed out. " You won't treat 
 this one with words and manner that are the same as a slap 
 in the face, for he's too good-looking." 
 
 She paid no heed to the gibe, for the young man's tone 
 was significant, and she had lifted her eyes to his with eager 
 questioning. His grave, sad face banished the flush from 
 hers instantly. 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn," Roger began again, in a low tone, 
 " you have already learned to associate me with painful ex 
 periences. I cannot help it. But this, my misfortune, is 
 nothing ; you must nerve yourself for anxiety that will test 
 even your strength. Your father is home, and ill. I will 
 not explain further before strangers. Belle and a physician 
 are awaiting you in the carriage. ' ' 
 
 How quiet and measured were his words ; but even in her 
 distress she was painfully conscious that the slight tremor in his 
 voice was the low vibration of a feeling whose repressed intensity 
 would sooner or later break forth. Beyond a momentary shrink 
 ing from what seemed to her but well-mastered vehemence^ 
 she gave him no thought in her overwhelming solicitude.
 
 3'6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Scarcely a moment elapsed before she joined him at the 
 door. As he placed her in the carriage he said, " Dr. Ben- 
 ton will explain to you what has happened." 
 
 " Roger " sobbed Belle, but he sprang on the box with 
 the driver, and in a few moments they were at the door of 
 the old mansion. 
 
 "Dr. Ben ton," said the young man, "will you please 
 accompany Miss Jocelyn ? After the fatigue of the day and 
 the shock of this evening she will need your support," and 
 he saw that she leaned heavily on the physician's arm. 
 
 Having dismissed the carriage, he found Belle leaning 
 against the side of the house, faint and trembling. The 
 young athlete lifted her in his arms and bore her steadily 
 and easily to the doorway, and then again up the winding 
 stairway. " Belle," he whispered, " if you lose your father 
 you shall at least have a brother. ' ' 
 
 She entwined her arm about his neck in mute acceptance 
 of the relationship. Her every breath was a low sob, and 
 she could not then tell him how his words reassured her, 
 taking away, in part, the almost overwhelming terror of 
 being left unprotected in the world. 
 
 During Mr. Jocelyn' s absence his family had tried to 
 banish from their minds the memory of his weakness, and 
 thus they had come to think of him again as the strong, 
 cheerful, genial man they had known all their lives. The 
 months preceding his departure were like a hateful dream. 
 It had been a dearly cherished hope that, after breathing his 
 native air for a few weeks, he would return the same frank, 
 clear-eyed, clear-brained man that had won his way, even 
 among strangers, after the wreck and ruin of the war. To 
 him their thoughts had turned daily, in the hope of release 
 from toil that was often torture, and from anxieties that filled 
 every waking hour with foreboding. 
 
 How bitter the disappointment then, and how terrible the
 
 THE SECRE T VICE RE VEALED. 3 1 7 
 
 shock, as they now looked upon his prostrate form, meagre, 
 shrunken, and almost lifeless ! Instead of the full, dark eyes 
 that had beamed mirthfully and lovingly for so many years, 
 there was an unnatural contraction of the pupils which ren 
 dered them almost invisible. His once healthful complexion 
 was now livid, or rather of a leaden, bluish hue ; his respira 
 tions stertorous and singularly deliberate. 
 
 " He is dying," Mildred moaned ; " he is far, far away 
 from us, even now. Oh, if we could have but one look, 
 one sign of farewell !" 
 
 Belle and Mrs. Jocelyn became almost helpless with grief, 
 for it did not seem possible to them that he could rally. 
 " Oh, why did I let him go why did I let him go !" was 
 the wife's remorseful and often-repeated question. 
 
 The elderly and experienced physician whom Roger had 
 brought ignored with professional indifference the grief- 
 stricken household, and was giving his whole mind to the 
 study of the case. After examining the pupils of Mr. Joce 
 lyn' s eyes, taking his temperature, and counting his pulse, 
 he looked at his associate and shook his head significantly. 
 Roger, who stood in the background, saw that Dr. Benton 
 did not accept the young physician's diagnosis. A moment 
 later Dr. Benton bared the patient's arm and pointed to 
 many small scars, some old and scarcely visible, and others 
 recent and slightly inflamed. The young practitioner then 
 apparently understood him, for he said, " This is both 
 worse and better than I feared. ' ' 
 
 "Worse, worse," growled Dr. Benton. 
 
 1 ' What do you mean ?' ' asked Mrs. Jocelyn, more dead 
 than alive. 
 
 "Madam," began Dr. Benton very gravely, " have you 
 never seen your husband using a little instrument like this ?" 
 and he produced from his pocket a hypodermic syringe. 
 
 ' ' Never, ' ' was the perplexed and troubled reply.
 
 3 1 8 WITHO UT A HOME. 
 
 The physician smiled a little satirically, and remarked, in 
 a low aside, " I hope the drug has not affected the whole 
 family. It's next to impossible to get at the truth in these 
 cases. ' ' 
 
 " Do you think he will die ?" was her agonized query. 
 
 " No, madam, we can soon bring him around, I think, 
 and indeed he would probably have come out of this excess 
 unaided ; but he had better die than continue his excessive 
 use of morphia. I can scarcely conceive how you could have 
 remained ignorant of the habit." 
 
 Mildred bowed her head in her hands with a low, despair 
 ing cry, for a flash of lurid light now revealed and explained 
 all that had been so strange and unaccountable. The terri 
 ble secret was now revealed, as far as she was able to compre 
 hend it her father was an opium inebriate, and this was 
 but the stupor of a debauch ! The thought of his death had 
 been terrible, but was not this worse ? She lifted her face in 
 a swift glance at Roger, and saw him looking at her with an 
 expression that was full of the strongest sympathy, and some 
 thing more. She coldly averted her eyes, and a slow, deep 
 flush of shame rose to her face. " Never shall I endure a 
 humiliation but he will witness it, and be a part of it," was 
 her bitter thought. 
 
 The physicians meanwhile changed their treatment, and 
 were busy with professional nonchalance. Mrs. Jocelyn 
 was at first too bewildered by their words and manner to do 
 more than look at them, with hands clasping and unclasping 
 in nervous apprehension, and with eyes full of deep and 
 troubled perplexity. Then, as the truth grew clearer, that a 
 reflection had been made upon her own and her husband's 
 truth, she rose Unsteadily to her feet, and said, with a 
 pathetic attempt at dignity, " I scarcely understand you, 
 and fear that you as little understand my husband's con 
 dition. He never concealed anything from me. He has
 
 THE SECRET VICE REVEALED. 319 
 
 been unfortunate and in failing health for months, and that 
 is all. I fear, from your cruel and unjust surmises, that you 
 do not know what you are doing, and that you are destroy 
 ing his slender chances for life. ' ' 
 
 " Do you wish to discharge us, then ?" was Dr. Benton's 
 brusque response. He was a man of unusual skill, but 
 blunt and unsympathetic, especially in cases wherein he sus 
 pected deception an element almost inseparable from the 
 morphia habit. The victim is almost invariably untruthful, 
 and the family not unfrequently hide the whole truth in the 
 desire to shield the disgraceful weakness. Dr. Benton was 
 too familiar with these facts to be easily moved, but when 
 the sad-hearted wife clasped her hands and cried, in tones 
 that would touch the coldest heart, ' ' I wish him to live, for 
 his death would be far worse than death to us all, ' ' the phy 
 sician said kindly, " There, there, Mrs. Jocelyn, I have 
 seen many cases like this. Your husband will live, and will 
 soon be able to speak to you. If you then can induce him to 
 leave morphia alone, he may become as sound a man as ever. ' ' 
 
 Mildred put her arm around her mother and drew her into 
 her room, closing the door. 
 
 A few moments later Roger heard the wife's passionate 
 protest, "I do not believe it I will never believe it." 
 Then Dr. Benton said to him, " Here, young man, run to 
 my house for an electric battery." 
 
 When he returned Mr. Jocelyn was coming slowly out of 
 his deep coma, and his appearance was changing rapidly for 
 the better. There was a deep, indignant flush on Mrs. 
 Jocelyn' s face, and she took Roger aside and said earnestly, 
 41 Never believe the lies you have heard here to-night. I 
 know that you will never repeat them. ' ' 
 
 " Never, Mrs. Jocelyn." 
 
 But Mildred was pale and almost stony in her cold, calm 
 aspect ; her heart, in her desperation, was hard toward every
 
 320 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 one. Belle had not comprehended the truth at all, having 
 been too much overwhelmed by her emotions to heed the 
 earlier remarks of the physicians, and Mildred had said to 
 them significantly and almost sternly, " There is no need of 
 giving your diagnosis any further publicity." 
 
 Dr. Benton had then looked at her more attentively, and 
 muttered, " An unusual girl ; more's the pity." 
 
 " Mr. Atwood,' Mildred began, a few moments after his 
 entrance, ' ' we thank you for your aid in this painful emer 
 gency, but we need trouble you no further. Papa is rallying 
 fast. I will thank you to inform me of all the expense 
 which you have incurred in our behalf at your earliest con 
 venience. ' ' 
 
 " Mildred," interposed Mrs. Jocelyn, suddenly appearing 
 from beside her husband's couch, the unwonted fire still 
 burning in her usually gentle eyes, " I cannot permit Mr. 
 Atwood to be dismissed so coldly. He has been a true 
 friend in the most terrible emergency of our lives. I must 
 have a strong, kind hand to sustain me now that my hus 
 band, my life, has been foully slandered in his own home." 
 
 Belle, in even greater terror of being left alone, clung to 
 his arm, and said, " He cannot leave us he has made rne a 
 promise this night which will keep him here." 
 
 With a troubled and deprecating look at Mildred, Roger 
 replied, " I will not fail you, Mrs. Jocelyn, nor you, Belle ; 
 but there is no further need of my intruding on your privacy. 
 I shall be within call all night" 
 
 " He can stay hin my room," said Mrs. Wheaton, who, 
 although aiding the physicians, could not help overhearing 
 the conversation. 
 
 " No, he shall stay here," cried Belle passionately ; "I'm 
 so unnerved that I'm almost beside myself, and he quiets me 
 and makes me feel safer. Millie has no right to show her 
 prejudice at such a time."
 
 THE SECRET VICE REVEALED. 3 21 
 
 Mildred, white and faint, sank into a chair by the table 
 and buried her face in her arms, leaving the young fellow in 
 sore perplexity as to what course he ought to take. He be 
 lieved the physicians were right, and yet Mrs. Jocelyn had 
 taken it for granted that he shared her faith in her husband's 
 truth, and he knew she would banish him from her presence 
 instantly should he betray a doubt as to the correctness of 
 her view. At the same time the expression of his face had 
 shown Mildred that he understood her father's condition 
 even better than she did. It seemed impossible to perform 
 the difficult and delicate part required of him, but with love's 
 loyalty he determined to do what he imagined the young girl 
 would wish, and he said firmly, " Belle, I again assure you 
 that you can depend upon my promise to the utmost Mrs. 
 Jocelyn, my respect for you is unbounded, and the privilege 
 of serving you is the best reward I crave. At the same time 
 I feel that it is neither right nor delicate for me to witness 
 sorrows that are so sacred. My part is to help, and not look 
 on, and I can help just as well if within call all the time. 
 Belle," he whispered, "dear Belle, I know you are un 
 nerved by weeks of overwork as well as by this great trouble, 
 but be a brave little woman once more, and all may soon be 
 well, ' ' and he was about to withdraw when Dr. Benton ap 
 peared and said: 
 
 " Mrs. Jocelyn, your husband is now out of all immediate 
 danger, but everything depends upon his future treatment. I 
 wish this young man to remain a little longer, for you must now 
 decide upon what course you will take. We have been called 
 in an emergency. There is no need that I should remain 
 any longer, for the physician who accompanied him here is 
 now amply competent to attend to the case. You have, how 
 ever, expressed lack of confidence in us, and may wish to 
 send for your own physician. If so, this young man can go 
 for him at once. I can prove to you in two minutes that I
 
 322 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 am right, and I intend to do so ; then my responsibility 
 ceases. Everything depends on your intelligent and firm 
 co-operation with whatever physician has charge of the case, 
 and it is no kindness to leave you under a delusion that does 
 your heart more credit than your head or eyes." 
 
 He stepped back through the curtained doorway, and re 
 turned with her husband's vest, from an inner pocket of 
 which he took a hypodermic syringe, a bottle of Magendie's 
 solution, and also another vial of the sulphate of morphia. 
 
 ' ' I am an old physician, ' ' he resumed, ' ' and know your 
 husband's symptoms as well as you know his face. His 
 possession of these articles should confirm my words. The 
 slight scars upon his arms and elsewhere were made by this 
 little instrument, as I can show you if you will come and 
 observe ' ' 
 
 His medical logic was interrupted by a low cry from the 
 stricken wife, and then she fainted dead away. 
 
 Mildred, on the contrary, stepped forward, with a pale, 
 stern face, and said, ' ' I will take charge of these, ' ' and she 
 carried the agents of their ruin to her own room. Instantly 
 she returned, and assisted Mrs. Wheaton in the restoration 
 of her mother. 
 
 To Belle, who had looked on dazed, trembling, and be 
 wildered, Roger whispered, " I shall be within call all 
 night."
 
 AN OPIUM MANIACS CHRISTMAS. 3 2 3 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 BENEATH his brusque manner Dr. Benton masked a 
 kind heart when once its sympathies were touched. 
 He soon became satisfied that Mr. Jocelyn's family were not 
 trying to shield his patient, but were, on the contrary, over 
 whelmed with dismay and shame at the truth which he had 
 made clear to them. He therefore set about helping them, 
 in his own prosaic but effective way, and he did not leave 
 them until they were all as well and quiet as the dread cir 
 cumstances of the situation permitted. Opium slaves are 
 subject to accidents like that which had overtaken Mr. Joce- 
 lyn, who, through h.eedlessness or while half unconscious, 
 had taken a heavy overdose, or else had punctured a vein 
 with his syringe. Not infrequently habitues carelessly, reck 
 lessly, and sometimes deliberately end their wretched lives in 
 this manner. Dr. Benton knew well that his patient was in 
 no condition to enter upon any radical curative treatment, 
 and it was his plan to permit the use of the drug for a few 
 days, seeking meanwhile to restore as far as possible his 
 patient's shattered system, arid then gain the man's honest 
 and hearty co,-operation :J) the terrible ordeal essential to 
 health and freedom. If Mr. Jocelyn had not the nerve 
 and will-power to carry out his treatment which he much 
 doubted he would advise that he be induced to go to an 
 institution where the will of others could enforce the absti 
 nence required. He believed that Mr. Jocelyn would consent
 
 324 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 to this, when convinced of his inability to endure the ordeal 
 in his own strength. Having explained his intentions and 
 hopes to Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred, he left them cast down 
 indeed, but not utterly devoid of hope. 
 
 It seemed to them that the husband and father must re 
 nounce the fatal habit at once, in response to their appeals. 
 They could not understand that it was already beyond his 
 power to break his chains that they must be broken by 
 other hands, if broken at all. 
 
 It may well be doubted if the light of Christmas day 
 dawned on a sadder household than that which was sheltered 
 in the old mansion. Worn and exhausted to the last degree, 
 and yet sleepless from anxiety, grief, and shame, the two 
 women watched beside the fitful, half-conscious man. At 
 last he appeared to throw off his stupor sufficiently to recog 
 nize his wife ; but it was with a strange look, in which were 
 blended fear, suspicion, and shame. A cold perspiration 
 broke out over his whole form, for something in her expres 
 sion, and especially in the aspect of Mildred's face, seemed 
 to indicate that they knew all, and his own guilty fears and 
 conscience made the surmise true for the moment ; but the 
 tender manner in which his wife wiped his brow and kissed 
 him were reassuring, and with his rallying powers grew the 
 hope that his weakness might yet be unknown and success 
 fully concealed until, by his physician's aid, he had thrown 
 off the curse. Fearing above and beyond all things else that 
 his wife would learn his degradation, he slowly and fitfully 
 tried to mature plans of deception ; but his enfeebled mind 
 rallied so slowly that he felt for a time that silence and ob 
 servation were his best allies. He would cautiously and 
 suspiciously feel his way, and having learned all that had 
 transpired since he remembered being on the steamer, he 
 could then decide more clearly how to shape his course. 
 He therefore affected to regard his condition as the result of
 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC'S CHRISTMAS. 325 
 
 a severe illness, and murmured that " quiet and home life 
 would soon bring him round." 
 
 Mildred kissed him also, and answered, " We cannot 
 think otherwise, papa, for our love, our lives, and all are 
 bound up in you." 
 
 The morning dragged heavily away, for all except the little 
 ones were under the impression that dark and woeful days 
 were before them. Dr. Benton had not disguised the truth 
 that the problem with which they had to deal was one of 
 great difficulty and much doubt. This prospect was de 
 pressing, but that which weighed like lead upon their hearts 
 was the thought that one who had ever been their ideal of 
 honor and truth had deceived them for months, and had 
 steadily yielded to a habit which he knew must destroy his 
 family's honor and leave them friendless, penniless, and dis 
 graced. The weeks of pain that Mildred had endured were 
 not the result of a hard necessity, but of a vicious indulgence 
 of a depraved appetite. Not disease but sin had so darkened 
 their lives and brought them to a pass where even daily bread 
 and shelter for the future were doubtful questions. 
 
 " A thousand times Mildred asked herself, " How can I 
 go out and face the world with my name blackened by this 
 great cloud of shame ?" She felt as if she never wished to 
 step into the open light of clay again, and the thought of 
 Vinton Arnold made her shudder. " There is now a great 
 gulf between us, ' ' she moaned. ' ' The truth that my father 
 is an opium slave can never be hidden, and even were Vinton 
 inclined to be faithful, his family would regard me as a leper, 
 and he will yield to their abhorrence. ' ' 
 
 : The wound in both her own and her mother's heart was 
 deep indeed. Their confidence was shattered, their faith in 
 human goodness and honor destroyed. While they still 
 hoped much, they nevertheless harbored a desperate fear, 
 and, at best, the old serene trust could never return. Even
 
 326 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 if Mr. Jocelyn could rally and reform, there would ever 
 remain the knowledge that he had once been weak and false, 
 and might be again. He would be one who must be 
 watched, shielded, and sustained, and not one upon whom 
 they could lean in quiet faith. The quaking earth which 
 shatters into ruin the material home brings but a slight 
 disaster compared with the vice that destroys a life-long trust 
 in a husband and father. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn' s nerves were much too weak and irritable to 
 endure his children's voices, and their innocence and un 
 consciousness of danger smote him with unendurable re 
 morse ; they were, therefore, sent to Mrs. Wheaton's room. 
 There, too, Belle met Roger, and was much reassured by his 
 hopeful words. She only half comprehended the truth con 
 cerning her father, and now, feeling the worst was past, her 
 mercurial nature was fast regaining its cheerfulness. She 
 was one who might despair one day and be joyous the next 
 Like her father, she had unlimited courage, and but little 
 fortitude. Although she did not know it, the outlook for 
 her was more threatening than for any of the others, tor she 
 could not patiently submit to a slow, increasing pressure of 
 poverty and privation. As her father feared, she might be 
 driven to interpose the protest of a reckless life. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn was greatly reassured when Dr. Benton called, 
 and treated him with much respect ; and when a liberal 
 allowance of morphia was injected into his arm, he became 
 quite cheerful, believing that not only his family but even 
 the physician was unaware, as yet, of his weakness. By 
 neither sign nor word did Dr. Benton indicate his knowl 
 edge, for it was his design to rally his patient into the best 
 possible condition, and then induce him to yield himself up 
 wholly to medical skill, naturally believing that in his pres 
 ent enfeebled state he would shrink from entering on the 
 decisive and heroic treatment required. Promising to call in
 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC'S CHRISTMAS. Z 2 7 
 
 the evening, he left Mr. Jocelyn apparently very much im 
 proved. 
 
 In the afternoon Mildred went to her room to seek a little 
 rest. The physician thought he had given enough of the 
 drug to satisfy his patient until he returned, but he had not 
 properly gauged the morbid craving with which he was trying 
 to deal, and as the day declined Mr. Jocelyn became very 
 restless. Finally, he said he felt so much better that he 
 would rise and dress himself, and, in spite of his wife's re 
 monstrances, he persisted in doing so. Although tottering 
 from weakness, he said, irritably, and almost imperiously, 
 that he needed no help, and wished to be alone. With sad 
 foreboding his wife yielded, and waited tremblingly for his 
 next step, for he had become to her an awful mystery. 
 
 Her fears were fulfilled, for he soon lifted the curtain door 
 and looked at her in a strange, suspicious manner. ' ' I miss 
 some medicine from my vest pocket," he said hesitatingly. 
 
 Her face crimsoned, and she found no words with which 
 to reply. 
 
 " Did you take it out ?" he demanded sharply. 
 
 " No," she faltered. 
 
 His manner began to grow excited, and he looked like a 
 distorted image of his former self. Anger, suspicion, fear, 
 and cunning were all blended in his face, but he so far mas 
 tered himself as to assume a wheedling tone and manner as 
 he came toward her and said, " Nan, it was only a little tonic 
 that I found beneficial while in the South. You must know 
 where it is. Please give it to me. ' ' 
 
 The poor woman was so overcome by her husband's ap 
 pearance and falsehood that she felt sick and faint, and knew 
 not what to say. 
 
 ' ' Where is it ?' ' he demanded angrily, for he felt that 
 unless he had the support of the drug speedily, he would 
 wholly lose his self-control.
 
 328 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Martin, ' ' pleaded his wife, ' ' wait till Dr. Benton 
 comes ; he will be here this evening." 
 
 " Why this ado about nothing ? I merely wish to take a 
 little tonic, and you look as if I proposed suicide." 
 
 ' ' Martin, Martin, it is suicide of body and soul. It is 
 worse than murder of me and your innocent children. Oh, 
 Martin, my heart's true love, make me a Christmas gift that 
 I will prize next to Him from whom the day is named. 
 Give me the promise that you will never touch the vile 
 poison again," and she knelt before him and sought to take 
 his hand. 
 
 For a moment he was overwhelmed. She evidently knew 
 all ! He sank into a chair, and trembled almost convulsively. 
 Then came the impulse an almost inevitable effect of the 
 drug upon the moral nature to lie about the habit, and to 
 strive to conceal it, even after an unclouded mind would see 
 that deception was impossible. 
 
 " Nan," he began, as he grew a little quieter, " you take 
 cruel advantage of my weak nerves. You must see that I 
 am greatly reduced by illness, and I merely wish to take a 
 little tonic as any sane man would do, and you treat me to 
 a scene of high tragedy. Give me my medicine, and I 
 know that I shall soon be much better." 
 
 " Oh, my husband, has it really come to this?" and the 
 wretched wife buried her face in her arms, and leaned heavily 
 on the table. 
 
 He was growing desperate. Through excess he had al 
 ready reached a point where oidinary life became an un- 
 endurable burden without the stimulant ; but facing a har 
 rowing scene like this was impossible. He felt that his ap 
 petite was like a savage beast on which he held a weakening 
 and relaxing grasp. With the strange, double consciousness 
 of the opium maniac, he saw his wife in all her deep distress, 
 and he had the remorse of a lost soul in view of her agony ;
 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC'S CHRISTMAS. 329 
 
 he was almost certain that she knew how he had wronged her 
 and his children, and he had all the shame and self-loathing 
 of a proud, sensitive man ; he knew that he was false to the 
 sacred trusts of husband and father, and that awful thing we 
 call a sense of guilt added its deep depression. It is not in 
 ability to comprehend his degradation, his danger, his utter 
 loss of manhood, which opium imposes on its wretched slave, 
 but an impossibility to do aught except gratify the resistless 
 craving at any and every cost All will-power has gone, all 
 moral resistance has departed, and in its place is a gnawing, 
 clamorous, ravening desire. The vitiated body, full of inde 
 scribable and mysterious pain, the still more tortured mind, 
 sinking under a burden of remorse, guilt, fear, and awful im 
 agery, both unite in one desperate, incessant demand for 
 opium. 
 
 While his wife sat leaning upon the table, her face hidden, 
 she was the picture of despair ; and, in truth, she felt almost 
 as if she were turning into stone. If her husband had been 
 brought home a mangled, mutilated man, as she often feared 
 he might be during the long years of the war, she would have 
 bent over him with a tenderness equalled only by the pride 
 and faith that had ever found in him their centre ; but this 
 strange apparition of a man with odd, sinister-looking 
 eyes, who alternately threatened and cowered before her 
 this man, mutilated more horribly in the loss of truth and 
 love, who was thus openly and shamelessly lying oh, was 
 he the chivalric, noble friend, who had been lover and hus 
 band for so many years ! The contrast was intolerable, and 
 the sense of his falseness stung her almost to madness. She 
 did not yet know that opium, like the corruption of the 
 grave, blackens that which is the fairest and whitest 
 
 For a few minutes Mr. Jocelyn debated with himself. 
 Was he strong enough to go out to the nearest drug-store ? 
 After one or two turns up and down the room he found
 
 33 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 that he was not. He might fall in utter collapse while on 
 the way, and yet his system, depleted by his recent excess, 
 demanded the drug with an intensity which he could not re 
 strain much longer without becoming wild and reckless. 
 He therefore said to his wife, in a dogged manner, ' ' Nan, I 
 must have that medicine. ' ' 
 
 The gentle creature was at last goaded into such a burst of 
 indignation that for a few moments he was appalled, and 
 trembled before her. The fire in her blue eyes seemed to 
 scorch away her tears, and standing before him she said pas 
 sionately, " As you are a man and a Southern gentleman, 
 tell me the truth. I never concealed a thought from you ; 
 what have you been concealing from us for weeks and 
 months ? I wronged you in that I did not think and plan 
 day and night how to save instead of how to spend, and I 
 can never forgive myself, but my fault was not deliberate, not 
 intentional. There was never a moment when I tried to 
 deceive you never a moment when I would not have suffer 
 ed hunger and cold that you and the children might be 
 warmed and fed. What is this tonic for which you are bar 
 tering your health, your honor and ours, your children's 
 bread and blood? Mildred sold her girlhood's gifts, the 
 few dear mementoes of the old happy days, that you might 
 have the chance you craved. That money was as sacred as 
 the mercy of God. For weeks the poor child has earned 
 her bread, not by the sweat of her face, but in agony of 
 body and unhappiness of heart. If it were disease that had 
 so cast us down and shadowed our lives with fear, pain, and 
 poverty, we would have submitted to God' swill and watched 
 over you with a patient tenderness that would never have 
 faltered or murmured ; but it' snot disease, it's notsomething 
 that God sent. It is that which crimsons our faces with shame. 
 
 He sat cowering and trembling before her, with his face 
 buried in his hands.
 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC'S CHRISTMAS. 331 
 
 In a sudden revulsion of tenderness she sank again on her 
 knees before him, and pleaded in tones of tenderest pathos : 
 " Martin, I know all ; but I am ready to forgive all if you 
 will be true from this time forward. I know now the cause 
 of all your strange moods which we attributed to ill-health ; 
 I know the worst ; but if, in humble reliance upon God, 
 you will win back your manhood, the past evil days shall be 
 blotted out, even as God blots out our sins and remembers 
 them no more against us. We will sustain your every effort 
 with sympathy and loving faith. We will smile at cold and 
 hunger that you may have time Great God !'' and she 
 sprang to her leet, white, faint, and panting. 
 
 Her husband had taken his hands from his face, and glared 
 at her like a famished wolf. In his desperate, unnatural 
 visage there was not a trace of manhood left. 
 
 " Give me the bottle of morphia you took from my 
 pocket," he demanded, rising threateningly. " No words ; 
 you might as well read the Ten Commandments to an un 
 chained tiger. Give it to me, or there is no telling what may 
 happen. You talk as if I could stop by simply saying, coolly 
 and quietly, I will stop. Ten thousand devils ! haven't I 
 suffered the torments of the damned in trying to stop ! Was 
 I not in hell for a week when I could not get it ? Do you 
 think I ask for it now as a child wants candy ? No, it's the 
 drop of water that will cool my tongue for a brief moment, 
 and as you hope for mercy or have a grain of mercy in your 
 nature, give it to me now, now, NOW !" 
 
 The poor wife tottered a step or two toward her daughter's 
 room, and fell swooning at the threshold. Mildred opened 
 the door, and her deep pallor showed that instead of sleeping 
 she had heard words that would leave scars on memory until 
 her dying day. 
 
 " The poison you demand is there," she said broken 
 ly, pointing to her bureau. " After mamma's appeal
 
 33 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 I need not, cannot speak," and she knelt beside hei 
 mother. 
 
 Her father rushed forward and seized the drug with the as- 
 pect of one who is famishing. Mildred shuddered, and would 
 not see more than she could not help, but gave her whole 
 thought and effort to her mother, who seemed wounded unto 
 death. After a few moments, to her unbounded surprise, 
 her father knelt beside her and lifted her mother to a lounge, 
 and, with a steady hand and a gentle, considerate manner, 
 sought to aid in her restoration. His face was full of solici 
 tude and anxiety indeed he looked almost the same as he 
 might have looked and acted a year ago, before he had ever 
 imagined that such a demon would possess him. 
 
 When at last Mrs. Jocelyn revived and recalled what had 
 occurred, she passed into a condition of almost hysterical 
 grief, for her nervous system was all unstrung. Mr. Jocelyn, 
 meanwhile, attended upon her in a silent, gentle, self- 
 possessed manner that puzzled Mildred greatly, although she 
 ascribed it to the stimulant he had taken. 
 
 After a few minutes a strange smile flitted across his face, 
 and he disappeared within his own apartment. A little later, 
 Mildred, returning from a momentary absence, saw him with 
 draw his syringe from the arm of her half-conscious mother. 
 
 " What have you done ?" she asked sternly, and hasten 
 ing to his side. 
 
 Secreting the instrument as a miser would his gold, he 
 answered, with the same strange smile, " She shall have a 
 merry Christmas yet ; I have just remembered the day. See 
 how quiet she is becoming ; see that beautiful flush stealing 
 into her pale face ; see the light dawning in her eye. Oh, 
 I gauged the dose with the skill of the best of them ; and 
 see, my hand is as steady as yours. I'm not a wreck yet, 
 and all may still be well. Come, this is Christmas night, 
 and we will keep it in good old Southern style. Where are
 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC S CHRISTMAS. 333 
 
 Belle and the children ? Ah ! here they are. Where have 
 you been, Belle ?" 
 
 " In Mrs. Wheaton's room," she replied, looking at her 
 father in much surprise. " I was trying to keep the children 
 quiet, so that you, mamma, and Millie might have a little 
 rest. ' ' 
 
 " That was very kind and good of you, and you now see 
 that I am much better ; so is mamma, and with your help 
 and Mildred's we shall have a merry Christmas night together 
 after all." 
 
 " Papa is right," Mrs. Jocelyn added with vivacity. " I 
 do feel much better, and so strangely hopeful. Come here, 
 Belle. I've scarcely seen you and the children all day. 
 Kiss me, darlings. I believe the worst is now past, that 
 papa will soon be well, and that all our troubles will end in 
 renewed prosperity and happiness. I have been looking on 
 the dark side, and it was wrong in me to do so. I should 
 have had more faith, more hope, more thankfulness. I 
 should bless God for that sight Fred and Minnie on their 
 father's knees as in old times. Oh, what a strange, bright 
 turn everything has taken. ' ' 
 
 " Mamma dear," said Belle, who was kneeling and 
 caressing her, ' ' can I not ask Roger in to set you ? He has 
 looked like a ghost all day, from anxiety about you." 
 
 " Oh, no, no," gasped Mildred. 
 
 " Now, Millie," began Mrs. Jocelyn in gentle effusion, 
 " you carry your prejudice against Roger much too far. He 
 has been the world and all to Belle since he came to town. 
 Belle was like a prisoned bird, and he gave her air and room 
 to fly a little, and always brought her back safe to the nest. 
 Think of his kindness last night (suddenly she put her hand 
 to her brow as if troubled by something half forgotten, but 
 her serene smile returned). Papa, thanks to Roger's kind 
 ness, is here, and he might have been taken to a hospital. I
 
 334 WITHQUT A HOME. 
 
 now feel assured that he will overcome all his troubles. 
 What we need is cheerfulness the absence of all that is de 
 pressing. Roger is lonely away from his home and people, 
 and he shall share our Christmas cheer ; so, call him, Belle, 
 and then you and Millie prepare as nice a supper as you 
 can ;" and the girl flew to make good a prospect so in ac 
 cordance with her nature. 
 
 Mildred almost as precipitately sought her room. A 
 moment later Roger was ushered in, and he could scarcely 
 believe his eyes. The unconscious man, whom he at this 
 time on the previous day believed dying, had his children on 
 his lap, and was caressing them with every mark of affection. 
 Although he still appeared to be very much of an invalid, 
 and his complexion had a sallow and unnatural hue, even in 
 the lamplight, it was difficult to believe that twenty-four 
 hours before he had appeared to be in extremis. When he 
 arose and greeted Roger with a courtesy that was almost fault 
 less, the young fellow was tempted to rub his eyes as if all 
 were a dream. Mrs. Jocelyn, too, was full of cheerfulness 
 and hope, and made him sit beside her while she thanked 
 him with a cordiality and friendliness that seemed even tinged 
 with affection. If memory could be silenced there would be 
 nothing to dispel the illusion that he looked upon an hum- 
 b'c but happy home, unshadowed by any thought of danger 
 or trouble. As it was, the illusion was so strong that he en 
 tered into the apparent spirit of the occasion, and he chatted 
 and laughed with a freedom and ease he had never yet known 
 in their presence. 
 
 "Where is Millie?" Mrs. Jocelyn suddenly asked. 
 " We must be all together on this happy occasion. Minnie, 
 call her, for I do not wish a moment of this long-deferred 
 hour marred or clouded." 
 
 " Millie," cried the child, opening the door, " mamma 
 wants you to come right away. We are having a lovely time. ' '
 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC'S CHRISTMAS. .335 
 
 " Don't mind Millie's ways," said Mrs. Jocelyn, touch 
 ing Roger's arm and giving him a little confidential nod. 
 " You misunderstand each other." 
 
 These words, with her manner, struck Roger as peculiar 
 in one who had ever seemed to him the embodiment of deli 
 cacy, but he was too inexperienced to gauge them properly. 
 When he turned, however, to bow to Mildred, who entered 
 and took a seat in a distant corner, he was startled by her 
 extreme pallor, but acting on Mrs. Jocelyn' s advice he tried 
 to act as before, resolving, nevertheless, that if his presence 
 continued to be a restraint on one for whom he was ever 
 ready to sacrifice himself, he would speedily depart. Belle 
 was radiant in her reaction from the long, miserable day, 
 and, with a child's unconsciousness, gave herself up to her 
 happiness. 
 
 " Millie shall rest as well as yourself, mamma, for she was 
 up all night, and I'll get supper and prove what a housewife 
 I am. Roger, if you do not swallow everything I prepare 
 without a wry face, and, indeed, with every appearance of 
 relish, I shall predict for you the most miserable old bachelor 
 hood all your days. 
 
 " I am afraid you will put Roger's gallantry to a very 
 severe test," cried Mrs. Joceiyn gayly. " Indeed, I fear we 
 have not very much for supper except the warmest good-will. 
 Our poverty now, however, will not last long, for I feel that 
 I can so manage hereafter as to make amends for all the past. 
 I can see that I am the one who has been to blame ; but all 
 that s past, and with my clearer, fuller knowledge and larger 
 opportunities I can do wonders." 
 
 Roger was much struck by the peculiar smile with which 
 Mr. Jocelyn regarded his wife as she uttered these words. 
 
 " Lemme show you what Aunty Wheaton gave me dis 
 mornin'," lisped Fred, pulling Roger up. 
 
 As he rose he caught a glimpse of Mildred's face, and saw
 
 336 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 that she was regarding her mother and father in undisguised 
 horror. Something was evidently wrong fearfully wrong. 
 There was a skeleton in that cheerful lighted room, and the 
 girl saw it plainly. Never would he forget her terrible ex 
 pression. He trembled with apprehension as he stood over 
 the child's toy and tried to imagine what it was that had sud 
 denly filled the place with a nameless dread and foreboding. 
 So quick and strong was his sympathy for Mildred, so un 
 mistakable had been the expression of the girl's face, that he 
 was sure something must soon occur which would explain 
 her fears. 
 
 He was right, for at this moment Dr. Benton knocked, 
 entered, and took the chair he had vacated. The physician 
 looked with some surprise at his patient and Mrs. Jocelyn' s 
 flushed, smiling face. As he felt her pulse her sleeve fell 
 back, and he saw the ominous little red scar, and then he 
 understood it all, and fixed a penetrating glance on the face 
 of her husband, who would not meet his eye. 
 
 " I have done you wrong, Dr. Benton," Mrs. Jocelyn 
 began volubly, " for we all are indebted to your skill that 
 my husband is so much better. This day, which promised 
 to pass so sadly, has a bright ending, thanks to your timely 
 remedies. We are once more a united household, and I can 
 never thank our dear young friend here, IVIr. Atwood, 
 enough that he discovered my husband and brought him to 
 us and to your able treatment. Surely, Millie, your preju 
 dice against him must vanish now, for " 
 
 " Mother," cried Mildred, " if you have a grain of reason 
 or self-control left, close your lips. Oh, what a mockery it 
 all is!" 
 
 When Belle took her astonished eyes from Mildred's face, 
 Roger, who stood near the door, was gone. 
 
 " You had better follow your daughter's advice, Mrs. 
 Jocelyn, ' ' said the physician quietly and soothingly, ' ' you
 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC'S CHRISTMAS. 337 
 
 are a little feverish, and I prescribe quiet. May I sec you 
 alone a moment or two, Mr. Jocelyn ?" 
 
 " Yes, here in my room," added Mildred eagerly. 
 
 It was with the aspect of mingled fear and haughtiness 
 that Mr. Jocelyn followed Dr. Benton into the apartment, 
 and the door was closed. 
 
 " Mother, you are ill," said Mildred, kneeling beside her. 
 " For my sake, for yours, pray keep quiet for a while." 
 
 " 111 ! I never felt better in my life. It's all your un 
 reasonable prejudice, Millie." 
 
 " I think so too," cried Belle indignantly. " We were 
 just beginning to have a little sunshine, and you have spoiled 
 everything." 
 
 ' ' I am the only one who knows the truth, and I shall take 
 the responsibility of directing our affairs for the next few 
 hours," replied Mildred, rising, with a pale, impassive face. 
 " Belle, my course has nothing to do with Roger Atwood. I 
 exceedingly regret, however, that he has been present. Wait 
 till you hear what Dr. Benton says ;" and there was something 
 so resolute and almost stern in her manner that even Mrs. 
 Jocelyn, in her unnatural exaltation, yielded. Indeed, she 
 was already becoming drowsy from the effects of the narcotic. 
 
 " You are not yourself, mamma. I'll explain all to 
 morrow," the young girl added soothingly. 
 
 " Mr. Jocelyn," said the physician, with quiet emphasis, 
 41 you have injected morphia into your wife's arm." 
 
 ' ' I have not. ' ' 
 
 " My dear sir, I understand your case thoroughly, and so 
 do your wife and daughter, as far as they can understand 
 my explanations. Now if you will cease your mad folly I 
 can save you, I think ; that is, if you will submit yourself 
 absolutely to my treatment." 
 
 1 ' You are talking riddles, sir. Our poverty does not war 
 rant any assumption on your part. ' '
 
 33 8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " I know the insane and useless instinct of those in your 
 condition to hide their weakness ; but can you not control 
 it, and permit me as your friend and physician to help you ? 
 t am seeking your interests, not my own." 
 
 " Curse you !" cried Mr. Jocelyn, in a burst of uncon 
 trollable anger, ' ' if you had been my friend you would have 
 let me die, but instead you have said things to my wife that 
 have blasted me forever in her eyes. If she had not known, I 
 could have made the effort you require ; but now I'm a lost 
 man, damned beyond remedy, and I'd rather see the devil 
 himself than your face again. These are my rooms, and I 
 demand that you depart and never appear here again. ' ' 
 
 The physician bowed coldly, and left the ill-fated family to 
 itself. 
 
 Mildred, who overheard her father's concluding words, 
 felt that it would be useless then to interpose. Indeed she 
 was so dispirited and exhausted that she could do no more 
 than stagger under the heavy burden that seemed crushing 
 her very soul. 
 
 She assisted her mother to retire, and the latter was soon 
 sleeping with a smile upon her lips. Mr. Jocelyn sat sul 
 lenly apart, staring out into the bleak, stormy darkness, 
 and Mildred left him lor the first time in her life with 
 out giving him his good-night kiss. As she realized this 
 truth, she sank on her couch and sobbed so bitterly that 
 Belle, who had been meditating reproaches, looked at her 
 with tearful wonder. Suddenly Mildred arose in strong 
 compunction, and rushed back to her father ; but he started 
 up with such a desperate look that she recoiled. 
 
 " Don't touch me," he cried. " Put your lips to the 
 gutter of the streets, if you will, but not to such pitch and 
 foulness as I have become. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, papa, have mercy !" she pleaded. 
 
 " Mercy !" he repeated, with a laugh that froze her
 
 AN OPIUM MANIAC'S CHRISTMAS. 339 
 
 blood, " there is no mercy on earth nor in heaven," and he 
 waved her away, and again turned his face to the outer dark 
 ness. 
 
 "Millie, oh, Millie, what is the matter?" cried Belle, 
 shocked at her sister's horror-stricken face. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Belle, is there any good God ?' ' 
 
 " Millie, I'm bewildered. What does it all mean ? The 
 evening that began so brightly seems ending in tragedy. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, tragedy in bitter truth. Hope is murdered, life 
 poisoned, hearts made to bleed from wounds that can never 
 heal. Belle, papa loves opium better than he does you or 
 me, better than his wife and little helpless children, better 
 than heaven and his own soul. Would to God I had never 
 lived to see this day !"
 
 34 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A BLACK CONSPIRACY. 
 
 ON the following morning Mrs. Jocelyn was ill and much 
 depressed from the reaction of the drug that had been 
 given without her knowledge, and after learning all that had 
 transpired she sank into an almost hopeless apathy. Mil 
 dred also was unable to rise, and Belle went to their respec 
 tive employers and obtained a leave of absence for a day or 
 two, on the ground of illness in the family. Mrs. Wheaton 
 now proved herself a discreet and very helpful friend, show 
 ing her interest by kindly deeds and not by embarrassing 
 quesaons. Indeed she was so well aware of the nature of 
 the affliction that overwhelmed the family that she was pos 
 sessed by the most dismal forebodings as well as the deepest 
 sympathy. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn had departed at an early hour, leaving a note 
 wherein he stated that he might be absent some days seeking 
 employment in a neighboring city. He had felt that it 
 would be impossible to meet his family immediately after the 
 experiences of the previous day. Indeed he had gone away 
 with the desperate resolve that he would break his habit or 
 never return ; but alas for the resolves of an opium slave ! 
 
 Time dragged heavily on, the family living under a night 
 mare of anxiety, fear, and horrible conjectures. What 
 might he not do ? What new phase of the tragedy would 
 hereafter be developed ? 
 
 Now that the busy season was over, the girls found that 
 they could retain their position as saleswomen only by ac-
 
 A BLACK CONSPIRACY. 3|i 
 
 cepting whatever their employers chose to pay, and the thrifty 
 shopkeepers satisfied their consciences with the thought that 
 they could obtain scores of others at even lower prices. Mr. 
 Schriven, in the multiplicity of other interests, had almost 
 forgotten Belle, and she had become in his mind merely a 
 part of the establishment Her dejected face and subdued 
 manner excited some remark among her companions when 
 she again appeared, but her explanation, " Mother is ill," 
 quieted all curiosity. 
 
 For a few days Mildred looked as white and crushed as a 
 broken lily, and then the reserve strength and courage of the 
 girl began to reassert themselves. With a fortitude that was 
 as heroic as it was simple and unostentatious, she resolutely 
 faced the truth and resolved to do each day's duty, leaving 
 the result in God's hands. With a miser's care she hus 
 banded her strength, ate the most nourishing food they could 
 afford, and rested every moment her duties permitted. The 
 economy they were now compelled to practise amounted 
 almost to daily privation. Belle and the children were often 
 a little petulant over this change, Mrs. Jocelyn apathetic, but 
 Mildred was inflexible. " We must not run in debt one 
 penny," she would often remark with compressed lips. 
 
 Although frequently unoccupied at the shop, she was 
 nevertheless compelled to stand, and in spite of this cruel re 
 quirement she rallied slowly. Thanks, however, to her wise 
 carefulness, she did gain steadily in her power to endure and 
 to fight the hard battle of life. 
 
 One of the saddest features of their trouble was the 
 necessity of reticence and of suffering in silence. Their 
 proud, sensitive spirits did not permit them to speak of their 
 shame even to Mrs. Wheaton, and she respected their re 
 serve. Indeed, among themselves they shrank from men 
 tioning the sorrrow that oppressed every waking moment and 
 filled their dreams with woeful imagery.
 
 34 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 During an absence of nearly two weeks Mr. Jocelyn occa 
 sionally wrote a line, saying that he was as well as they could 
 expect, and that was all. Then he reappeared among them 
 and began leading a desultory kind of life, coming and going 
 in an aimless way, and giving but little account of himself. 
 They saw with a deeper depression that he had not improved 
 much, although apparently he had avoided any great ex 
 cesses. Occasionally he gave Mildred a little money, but 
 how it was obtained she did not know. It was well he was 
 reticent, for had she known that it was often part of a small 
 loan from some half-pitying friend of former days, and that 
 it would never be repaid, she would not have used a penny 
 of it. They were simply compelled to recognize the awful 
 truth, that the husband and father was apparently a confirmed 
 opium inebriate. At first they pleaded with him again and 
 again, unable to understand how it was possible for him to 
 continue in so fatal a course, but at last they despairingly 
 desisted. He would at times weep almost hysterically, over 
 whelmed with remorse, and again storm in reckless anger 
 and unreasoning fury. As in thousands of other homes 
 wherein manhood and honor have been destroyed, they 
 found no better resource than silent endurance. Under such 
 inflictions resignation is impossible. For Mrs. Jocelyn and 
 Mildred it was simply a daily martyrdom, but in her 
 companionship with Roger, Belle had much to sustain, 
 cheer, and even brighten her life. 
 
 He was in truth a loyal friend, and daily racked his brain 
 for opportunities to show her and Mrs. Jocelyn some reassur^ 
 ing attention ; and his kindness and that of Mrs. Wheaton 
 were about the only glints of light upon their darkening way. 
 Mildred was polite and even kind in her manner toward the 
 young man, since for Belle's sake and her mother's she felt 
 that she must be so. His course, moreover, had compelled 
 her respect ; but nevertheless her shrinking aversion did not
 
 A BLACK CONSPIRACY. 343 
 
 diminish. The fact that an evil destiny had seemingly de 
 stroyed her hope of ever looking into the face of Vinton 
 Arnold again made the revolt of her heart all the more bitter 
 against an unwelcome love of which she was ever conscious 
 when Roger was present. But he had won her entire re 
 spect ; he knew so much, and he worked on and waited. 
 The grasp of his mind upon his studies daily grew more 
 masterful, and his industry and persistence were so steady 
 that the old commission merchant began to nod to himself 
 approvingly. 
 
 The current of time flowed sluggishly on, bringing only 
 changes for the worse to the Jocelyns. Early spring had 
 come, but no spring-tide hope, and in its stead a bitter 
 humiliation. The pressure of poverty at last became so 
 great that the Jocelyns were in arrears for rent and were com 
 pelled to move. In this painful ordeal Mrs. Wheaton was a 
 tower of strength, and managed almost everything for them, 
 since no dependence could be placed on Mr. Jocelyn. The 
 reader's attention need not be detained by a description of 
 their new shelter for it could not be called a home. They 
 had a living-room and two very small bedrooms in a brick 
 tenement wedged in among others of like unredeemed angu 
 larity, and belonging to the semi-respectable, commonplace 
 order. It was occupied by stolid working-people of various 
 nationalities, and all engaged in an honest scramble for bread, 
 with time and thought for little else. The house was sim 
 ply a modern, cheap shelter, built barely within the require 
 ments of the law, and, from its newness, unsoiled as yet with 
 the grime of innumerable crowded families. Everything 
 was slight, thin, and money-saving in the architecture ; and 
 if a child cried, a shrill- tongued woman vociferated, or a 
 laborer, angry or drunk, indulged in the general habit of 
 profanity, all the other inmates of the abode were at once 
 aware of the fact. By the majority, such sounds were no
 
 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 more heeded than the rumble in the streets, but to poor 
 Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred, with natures like ^Eolian harps, 
 the discords of such coarse, crowded life were often horrible. 
 There was naught to do but exist from day to day, to win 
 what bread they could wherewith to sustain a life that seemed 
 to promise less and less. Mr. Jocelyn was steadily sinking, 
 and Belle, at last, growing bitter and restless under the priva 
 tions of her lot, in spite of Roger's unfaltering friendship. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn was not one who could sin in a conservative, 
 prudent way. He seemed utterly unable to rally and be a 
 man in his own strength, and his remorse over his conduct 
 was so great that he sought a refuge in almost continuous 
 excess. The greater the height, the more tremendous the 
 fall, and he had now reached the recklessness of despair. 
 He had many stolid, slouching neighbors in the tenements, 
 who permitted life to be at least endurable for their families 
 because of the intervals between their excesses ; but an in 
 terval to Mr. Jocelyn was a foretaste of perdition. Never 
 theless, if the wretched man, by a kindly violence, could 
 have been shut up and away for weeks, perhaps months, 
 from all possibility of obtaining the poisons that were destroy 
 ing him, and treated with scientific skill, he might have been 
 saved even at this late hour. When the world recognizes that 
 certain vices sooner or later pass from the character of volun 
 tary evil into the phase of involuntary disease, and should 
 be treated rigorously and radically under the latter aspect, 
 many lives and homes will be saved from final wreck. 
 
 No principles are better known than the influences of soil, 
 climate, darkness, and light upon a growing plant. If the 
 truth could be appreciated that circumstances color life and 
 character just as surely, marring, distorting, dwarfing, or 
 beautifying and developing, according as they are friendly or 
 adverse, the workers in the moral vineyard, instead of trying 
 to obtain fruit from sickly vines, whose roots grope in
 
 A BLACK CONSPIRACY. 345 
 
 sterility, and whose foliage is poisoned, would bring the rich 
 ness of opportunity to the soil and purify the social atmos 
 phere. Immature Belle, in spite of all the influences for 
 good from her mother, her sister, and Roger, could scarcely 
 reside where she did and grow pure and womanly. She was 
 daily compelled to see and hear too much that was coarse, 
 evil, and debasing. 
 
 She knew that Roger was a friend, and nothing more that 
 his whole heart was absorbed in Mildred and her feminine 
 nature, stimulated by the peculiarities of her lot, craved 
 warmer attentions. In her impoverished condition, and with 
 her father's character becoming generally known, such atten 
 tions would not naturally come from young men whom those 
 who loved her best could welcome. She was growing restless 
 under restrictions, and her crowded, half-sheltered life was 
 robbing her of womanly reserve. These undermining influ 
 ences worked slowly, imperceptibly, but none the less cer 
 tainly, and she recognized the bold, evil admiration which 
 followed her more and more unshrinkingly. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn's condition was no longer a secret, and he 
 often, in common with other confirmed habitue's, increased 
 the effects of opium by a free use of liquor. He therefore 
 had practically ceased to be a protector to his daughters. 
 Fred and Minnie, in spite of all the broken-hearted and fail 
 ing mother could do, were becoming little street Arabs, 
 learning all too soon the evil of the world. 
 
 Since the revelation of her father's condition Mildred had 
 finally relinquished her class at the mission chapel. Her 
 sensitive spirit was so shadowed by his evil that she felt she 
 would be speechless before children who might soon learn to 
 associate her name with a vice that would seem to them as 
 horrible as it was mysterious. Bread and shelter she must 
 obtain, but she was too fear-haunted, too conscious of the
 
 34 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 shame to which she was linked, to face the public on any 
 occasion not connected with her daily toil. 
 
 The pride characteristic of American people who have 
 lapsed from a better condition was intensified by her South 
 ern birth and prejudices. More than hunger, cold, and even 
 death, she feared being recognized, pointed out, stared at, and 
 gossiped about, while the thought of receiving charity 
 brought an almost desperate look into her usually clear blue 
 eyes. Therefore she shrank from even Mr. Wentworth, and 
 was reticent on all topics relating to their domestic affairs. 
 She knew that there were many families whom he was almost 
 sustaining through crises of illness and privation ; she also 
 knew that there were far more who sought to trade upon his 
 sympathies. While she could take aid from him as readily 
 as from any one, she also believed that before she could re 
 ceive it she must be frank concerning her father. Rather 
 than talk of his shame, even to her pastor, it might well be 
 believed that the girl would starve. What she might do for 
 the sake of the others was another question. 
 
 Mr. Wentworth in sadness recognized the barrier which 
 Mildred's pride was rearing between them, but he was too 
 wise and experienced to be obtrusively personal. He sought 
 earnestly, however, to guard the young girl against the moral 
 danger which so often results from discouragement and un- 
 happiness, and he entreated her not to part with her faith, 
 her clinging trust in God. 
 
 " A clinging trust is, indeed, all that I have left," she had 
 replied so sadly that his eyes suddenly moistened ; ' ' but the 
 waves of trouble seem strong and pitiless, and I sometimes 
 fear that my hands are growing numb and powerless. In 
 plain prose, I'm just plodding on God knows whither. In 
 my weary, faltering way I am trying to trust Him," she 
 added, after a brief silence, ' ' and I always hope to ; but I 
 am so tired, Mr. Wentworth, so depressed, that I'm like the
 
 A BLACK CONSPIRACY. 347 
 
 soldiers that have been described to me as marching on with 
 heavy eyes and heavy feet because they must. There is no 
 use in my coming to the chapel, for I haven't the heart to 
 say a word of cheer to any one, and hollow words would 
 hurt me, while doing no good. I am trying your charity 
 sorely, but I can't help it. I fear you cannot understand 
 me, for even your Christian sympathy is a burden. I'm too 
 tired, too sorely wounded to make any response ; while all 
 the time I feel that I ought to respond gratefully and ear 
 nestly. It seems a harsh and unnatural thing to say, but my 
 chief wish is to shrink away from everybody and everything 
 not essential to my daily work. I think I shall have strength 
 enough to keep up a mechanical routine of life for a long 
 time, but you must not ask me to think or give way to feel 
 ing, much less to talk about myself and and the others. 
 If I should lose this stolid self-control which I am gaining, 
 and which enables me to plod along day by day with my 
 eyes shut to what may be on the morrow, I believe I should 
 become helpless from despair and grief." 
 
 " My dear child," the clergyman had replied, in deep 
 solicitude, " I fear you are dangerously morbid ; and yet I 
 don't know. This approach to apathy of which you speak 
 may be God's shield from thoughts that would be sharp 
 arrows. I can' t help my honest sympathy, and I hope and 
 trust that I may soon be able to show it in some helpful way 
 I mean in the way of finding you more remunerative and 
 less cruel work," he added quickly, as he saw a faint flush 
 rising in the young girl's face. Then he concluded, gravely 
 and gently, ' ' Miss Mildred, I respect you I respect even 
 your pride ; but, in the name of our common faith and the 
 bonds it implies, do not carry it too far. Good-by. Come 
 to me whenever you need, or your conscience suggests my 
 name, ' ' and the good man went away wholly bent on obtain 
 ing some better employment for Mildred ; and he made not
 
 348 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 a little effort to do so, only to find every avenue of labor 
 suited to the girl's capacity already thronged. Meanwhile 
 the needs and sorrows of others absorbed his time and 
 thoughts. 
 
 Belle, because of her thorough liking and respect for Mr. 
 Wentworth, and even more for the reason that he had ob 
 tained her promise to come, was rarely absent from her class, 
 and the hour spent at the chapel undoubtedly had a good 
 and restraining influence ; but over and against this one or 
 two hours in seven days were pitted the moral atmosphere oj 
 the shop, the bold admiration and advances in the streets, 
 which were no longer unheeded and were scarcely resented, 
 and the demoralizing sights and sounds of a tenement-house. 
 The odds were too great for poor Belle. Like thousands of 
 other girls, she stood in peculiar need of sheltered home life, 
 and charity broad as heaven should be exercised toward those 
 exposed as she was. 
 
 As Mr. Jocelyn sank deeper in degradation, Mildred's 
 morbid impulse to shrink, cower, and hide, in such poor shel 
 ter as she had, grew stronger, and at last she did little more 
 than try to sleep through the long, dreary Sabbaths, that she 
 might have strength for the almost hopeless struggle of the 
 week. She was unconsciously drifting into a hard, apathetic 
 materialism, in which it was her chief effort not to think or 
 remember from the future she recoiled in terror but sim 
 ply to try to maintain her physical power to meet the daily 
 strain. 
 
 It is a sad and terrible characteristic of our Christian city, 
 that girls, young, beautiful, and unprotected like Mildred and 
 Belle, are the natural prey of remorseless huntsmen. Only 
 a resolute integrity, great prudence and care, can shield 
 them ; and these not from temptation and evil pursuit, but 
 only from the fall which such snares too often compass. 
 
 Of these truths Mildred had a terrible proof. A purer-
 
 A BLACK CONSPIRACY. 349 
 
 hearted girl than she never entered the maelstrom of city 
 life ; but those who looked upon her lovely face looked 
 again, and lingeringly, and there was one who had devoured 
 her beauty daily with wolfish eyes. In charge of the de 
 partment of the shop wherein she toiled, there was a man 
 who had long since parted with the faintest trace of principle 
 or conscience. He was plausible, fine-looking, after a cer 
 tain half-feminine type, and apparently vigilant and faithful 
 in his duties as a floor-walker ; but his spotless linen con 
 cealed a heart that plotted all the evil his hands dared to 
 commit. For him Mildred had possessed great attractions 
 from the first ; and, with the confidence bestowed by his 
 power, and many questionable successes, he made his first 
 advances so openly that he received more than one public 
 and stinging rebuff. A desire for revenge, therefore, had 
 taken entire possession of him, and with a serpent's cold, 
 deadly patience he was waiting for a chance to uncoil and 
 strike. Notwithstanding his outward civility, Mildred never 
 met the expression of his eyes without a shudder. 
 
 From frank-tongued Belle, Roger had obtained some hints 
 of this man' s earlier attentions, and of his present ill-concealed 
 dislike a latent hostility which gave Mildred no little un 
 easiness, since, by some pretext, he might cause her dis 
 missal. She knew too well that they were in such straits 
 now that they could not afford one hour's idleness. Roger 
 therefore nursed a bitter antipathy against the fellow. 
 
 One evening, late in March, the former was taking his 
 usual brief walk before sitting down to long hours of study. 
 He was at liberty to go whither he pleased, and not un 
 naturally his steps, for the hundredth time, perhaps, passed 
 the door through which he could catch a glimpse of the 
 young girl, who, with apparent hopelessness, and yet with 
 such pathetic patience, was fighting a long battle with dis- 
 heartening adversity. He was later than usual, and the em-
 
 35 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ployes were beginning to leave. Suddenly the obnoxious 
 floor-walker appeared at the entrance with a hurried and in 
 tent manner. Then he paused a second or two and con 
 cealed himself behind a show-case. Roger now saw that his 
 eyes were fixed on a girl who had just preceded him, and 
 who, after a furtive glance backward, hastened up the ave 
 nue. Her pursuer for such he evidently was followed 
 instantly, and yet sought to lose himself in the crowd so that 
 she could not detect him. Partly in the hope of learning 
 something to the disadvantage of one who might have it in 
 his power to injure Mildred, and partly from the motive of 
 adding zest to an aimless walk, Roger followed the man. 
 
 The girl, with another quick glance over her shoulder, at 
 last turned down a side street, and was soon walking alone 
 where passengers were few and the street much in shadow ; 
 here her pursuer joined her, and she soon evinced violent 
 agitation, stopping suddenly with a gesture of indignant pro 
 test. He said something, however, that subdued her speed 
 ily, and they went on together for some little distance, flie 
 man talking rapidly, and then they turned into a long, dark 
 passage that led to some tenements in the rear of those front 
 ing on the street. About midway in this narrow alley a 
 single gas-jet burned, and under its light Roger saw them 
 stop, and the girl produce from beneath her waterproof cloak 
 something white, that appeared like pieces of wound lace. 
 The man examined them, made a memorandum, and then 
 handed them back to the girl, who hesitated to take them ; 
 but his manner was so threatening and imperious that she 
 again concealed them on her person. As they came out 
 together, Roger, with hat drawn over his eyes, gave them a 
 glance which fixed the malign features of the man and the 
 frightened, guilty visage of the girl on his memory. They 
 regarded him suspiciously, but, as he went on without look 
 ing back, they evidently thought him a casual passer-by.
 
 A BLACK CONSPIRACY. 35 J 
 
 " It's a piece of villainy," Roger muttered, " but of what 
 nature I have no means of discovering, even were it any 
 affair of mine. I am satisfied of one thing, however that 
 man's a scoundrel ; seemingly he has the girl in his power, 
 and it looks as if she had been stealing goods and he is com 
 pounding the felony with her. ' ' 
 
 If he had realized the depth of the fellow's villainy he 
 would not have gone back to his studies so quietly, for the 
 one nearest to his heart was its object. The scene he had 
 witnessed can soon be explained. Goods at the lace coun 
 ter had been missed on more than one occasion, and it had 
 been the hope of Mildred's enemy that he might fasten the 
 suspicion upon her. On this evening, however, he had seen 
 the girl in question secrete two or three pieces as she was 
 folding them up, and he believed she had carried them away 
 with her. Immediately on joining her he had charged her 
 with the theft, and in answer to her denials threatened to 
 have her searched before they parted. Then in terror she 
 admitted the fact, and was in a condition to become his un 
 willing accomplice in the diabolical scheme suggested by 
 his discovery. 
 
 He had said to her, in effect, that he suspected another 
 girl namely, Mildred Jocelyn and that if she would place 
 the goods in the pocket of this girl's cloak on the following 
 afternoon he would by this act be enabled to extort a confes 
 sion from her also, such as he had received in the present case. 
 He then promised the girl in return for this service that he 
 would make no complaint against her, but would give her the 
 chance to find another situation, which she must do speedily t 
 since he could no longer permit her to remain in the employ 
 of the house for whom he acted. She was extremely reluc 
 tant to enter into this scheme, but, in her confusion, guilt, 
 and fear, made the evil promise, finding from bitter experi 
 ence that one sin, like an enemy within the walls, opens the
 
 3 5 2 WITHO UT A HOME. 
 
 gate to many others. She tried to satisfy such conscience as 
 she had with the thought that Mildred was no better than 
 herself, and that the worst which could happen to the object 
 of this sudden conspiracy was a quiet warning to seek em 
 ployment elsewhere. The man himself promised as much, 
 although he had no such mild measures in view. It was his 
 design to shame Mildred publicly, to break down her charac 
 ter, and render her desperate. He had learned that she had 
 no protector worthy of the name, and believed that he could 
 so adroitly play his part that he would appear only as the 
 vigilant and faithful servant of his employers. 
 
 Mildred, all unconscious of the pit dug beneath her feet, 
 was passing out the following evening into the dreary March 
 storm, when the foreman touched her shoulder and said that 
 one of the proprietors wished to see her. In much surprise, 
 and with only the fear of one whose position meant daily 
 bread for herself and those she loved better than self, she 
 followed the man to the private office, where she found two 
 of the firm, and they looked grave and severe indeed. 
 
 ' ' Miss Jocelyn, ' ' began the elder, without any circumlocu 
 tion, ' ' laces have been missed from your department, and sus 
 picion rests on you. I hope you can prove yourself innocent. " 
 
 The charge was so awful and unexpected that she sank, 
 pale and faint, into a chair, and the appearance of the 
 terror-stricken girl was taken as evidence of guilt. But she 
 soon rallied sufficiently to say, with great earnestness, " In 
 deed, sir, I am innocent." 
 
 ' ' Assertion is not proof. Of course you are willing, then, 
 to be searched ?' ' 
 
 She, Mildred Jocelyn, searched for stolen goods ! 
 Searched, alone, in the presence of these dark-browed, 
 frowning men ! The act, the indignity, seemed overwhelm 
 ing. A hot crimson flush mantled her face, and her 
 womanhood rose in arms against the insult
 
 A BLACK CONSPIRACY. 3 S3 
 
 " I do not fear being searched," she said indignantly ; 
 " but a woman must perform the act." 
 
 "Certainly," said her employer; "we do not propose 
 anything indecorous ; but first call an officer. ' ' 
 
 They were convinced that they had found the culprit, and 
 were determined to make such an example of her as would 
 deter all others in the shop from similar dishonesty. 
 
 Mildred was left to herself a few moments, faint and be 
 wildered, a whirl of horrible thoughts passing through her 
 mind ; and then, conscious of innocence, she began to grow 
 calm, believing that the ordeal would soon be over. Never 
 theless she had received a shock which left her weak and 
 trembling, as she followed two of the most trusty women 
 employed in the shop to a private apartment, at whose door 
 she saw a bulky guardian of the law. The majority, un 
 aware of what had taken place, had departed ; but such as 
 remained had lingered, looking in wonder at the hasty ap 
 pearance of the policeman, and the intense curiosity had 
 been heightened when they saw him stationed near an en 
 trance through which Mildred was speedily led. They at 
 once surmised the truth, and waited for the result of the 
 search in almost breathless expectation. The girl who had 
 done Mildred so deep a wrong had hastened away among the 
 first, and so was unaware of what was taking place ; the chief 
 conspirator, from an obscure part in the now half-lighted 
 shop, watched with cruel eyes the working of his plot
 
 354 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 MILDRED IN A PRISON CELL. 
 
 NOT from any sense of guilt, but rather from the trem 
 bling apprehensiveness of one whose spirit is already 
 half broken by undeserved misfortune, Mildred tottered to a 
 chair within the small apartment to which she had been 
 taken. With an appealing glance to the two women who 
 stood beside her she said, " Oh, hasten to prove that I am 
 innocent ! My burden was already too heavy, and this is 
 horrible." 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn," replied the elder of the women, in a 
 matter-of-fact tone, " it's our duty to search you thoroughly, 
 and, if innocent, you will not fear it There will be noth 
 ing ' horrible ' about the affair at all, unless you have been 
 stealing, and it seems to me that an honest girl would show 
 more nerve." 
 
 " Search me, then search as thoroughly as you please," 
 cried Mildred, with an indignant flush crimsoning her pale, 
 wan face. "I'd sooner starve a thousand times than take 
 a penny that did not belong to me. ' ' 
 
 Grimly and silently, and with a half-incredulous shrug, 
 the woman, whose mind had been poisoned against Mildred, 
 began her search, first taking off the young girl's waterproof 
 cloak. " Why is the bottom of this side- pocket slit open ?" 
 she asked severely. ' ' What is this, away down between the 
 lining and the cloth ?' ' and she drew out two pieces of val 
 uable lace.
 
 MILDRED IN A PRISON CELL. 355 
 
 Mildred looked at the om.nous wares with dilated eyes, 
 and for a moment was speechless with astonishment and 
 terror. 
 
 " Your words and deeds are a trifle discordant," began 
 the woman, in cold satire, " but your manner is more in 
 keeping. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I know nothing abou L that lace, ' ' Mildred exclaimed 
 passionately. ' ' This is a plot against ' ' 
 
 " Oh, nonsense !" interrupted the woman harshly. 
 " Here, officer," she continued, opening the door, " take 
 your prisoner. These goods were found upon her person, 
 concealed within the lining of her cloak," and she showed 
 him where the lace had been discovered. 
 
 "A mighty clear case," was his grinning reply; "still 
 you must be ready to testify to-morrow, unless the girl pleads 
 guilty, which will be her best course." 
 
 " What are you going to do with me?" asked Mildred, 
 in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 " Oh, nothing uncommon, miss only what is always 
 done under such circumstances. We'll give you free lodg 
 ings to-night, and time to think a bit over your evil ways. 
 
 One of the seniors of the firm, who had drawn near to the 
 door and had heard the result of the search, now said, with 
 much indignation, and in a tone that all present could hear, 
 " Officer, remove your prisoner, and show no leniency. 
 Let the law take its full course, for we intend to stamp out 
 all dishonesty from our establishment, most thoroughly." 
 
 " Come," said the policeman, roughly laying his hand on 
 the shoulder of the almost paralyzed girl. 
 
 " Where ?" she gasped. 
 
 " Why, to the station-house, of course," he answered 
 impatiently. 
 
 ' ' Oh, you can' t mean that. ' ' 
 
 " Come, come, no nonsense, no airs. You knew well
 
 35 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 enough that the station-house and jail were at the end of th 
 road you were travelling. People always get found out,, 
 sooner or later. If you make me trouble in arresting you, 
 it will go all the harder with you." 
 
 ' ' Can' 1 1 can' 1 1 send word to my friends ?' ' 
 
 " No, indeed, not now. Your pals must appear in court 
 to-morrow. ' ' 
 
 She looked appealingly around, and on every face within 
 the circle of light saw only aversion and anger, while the 
 cruel, mocking eyes of the man whose coarse advances she 
 had so stingingly resented were almost fiendish in their ex 
 ultation. 
 
 " It's of no use,' she muttered bitterly. "It seems as 
 if all the world, and God Himself, were against me," and 
 giving way to a despairing apathy she followed the officer 
 out of the store out into the glaring lamplight of the street, 
 out into the wild March storm that swept her along toward 
 prison. To her morbid mind the sleet-laden gale seemed in 
 league with all the other malign influences that were hurry 
 ing her on to shame and ruin. 
 
 " Hi, there ! Look where you are going, " thundered the 
 policeman to a passenger who was breasting the storm, with his 
 umbrella pointed at an angle that threatened the officer's eye. 
 
 The umbrella was thrown back, and then flew away on 
 the gale from the nerveless hands of Roger Atwood. Dumb 
 and paralyzed with wonder, he impeded their progress a 
 moment as he looked into Mildred's white face. 
 
 At last a time had come when she welcomed his presence, 
 and she cried, ' ' Oh, Mr. Atwood, tell them at home tell 
 them I'm innocent." 
 
 " What does this outrage mean ?" he demanded, in a tone 
 that caused the officer to grasp his club tightly. 
 
 " It means that if you interfere by another word I'll 
 arrest you also. Move on, and mind your business."
 
 MILDRED IN A PRISON CELL. 357 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn, explain," he said earnestly to her, with 
 out budging an inch, and the comparatively few passers-by 
 began to gather around them. 
 
 11 You can have no communication with the prisoner on 
 the street," said the arm of the law roughly ; " and if you 
 don' t get out of my way you' 11 be sorry. ' ' 
 
 " Please don't draw attention to me," entreated Mildred 
 hurriedly. " You can do nothing. I'm falsely accused 
 tell them at home." 
 
 He passed swiftly on her side, and, as he did so, whis 
 pered, " You shall not be left alone a moment. I'll fol 
 low, and to-morrow prove you innocent, ' ' for, like a flash, the 
 scene he had witnessed the evening before came into his mind. 
 
 "Quit that," warned the officer, "or I'll ' but the 
 young man was gone. He soon turned, however, and fol 
 lowed until he saw Mildred led within the station-house 
 door. The storm was so severe as to master the curiosity of 
 the incipient crowd, and only a few street gamins followed 
 his example. He was wary now, and, having regained his 
 self-control, he recognized a task that would tax his best skill 
 and tact. 
 
 Having watched until he saw the officer who had made the 
 arrest depart, he entered the station-house. To the sergeant 
 on duty behind the long desk he said, with much courtesy, 
 " I am a friend of Miss Jocelyn, a young woman recently 
 brought to this station. I wish to do nothing contrary to 
 your rules, but I would like to communicate with her and do 
 what I can for her comfort. Will you please explain to me 
 what privileges may be granted to the prisoner and to her 
 friends ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Well, this is a serious case, and the proof against her is 
 almost positive. The stolen goods were found upon her per 
 son, and her employers have charged that there be no 
 leniency."
 
 35 8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Her employers could not have wished her treated 
 cruelly, and if they did, you are not the man to carry out 
 their wishes," Roger insinuated. "All that her friends ask 
 is kindness and fair' play within the limits of your rules. 
 Moreover, her friends have information which will show her 
 to be innocent, and let me assure you that she is a lady by 
 birth and breeding, although the family has been reduced to 
 poverty. She has influential friends." 
 
 His words evidently had weight with the sergeant, and 
 Roger's bearing was so gentlemanly that the official imagined 
 that the young man himself might represent no mean degree 
 of social and political influence. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I noticed that she wasn't one of the 
 common sort. ' ' 
 
 " And you must have observed also that she was delicate 
 and frail looking." 
 
 " Yes, that, too, was apparent, and we have every dis 
 position to be humane toward prisoners. You can send her 
 some supper and bedding, and if you wish to write to her 
 you can do so, but must submit what you write to the cap 
 tain of the precinct. I'm expecting him every minute." 
 
 Roger wrote rapidly : 
 
 " Miss JOCELYN : Your friends fully believe in your inno 
 cence, and I think I can say without doubt that they have 
 the means of proving it. Much depends on your maintain 
 ing strength and courage. Bedding will be sent to make 
 you comfortable, and, for the sake of your mother and 
 those you love at home, I hope you will not refuse the sup 
 per that shall soon be sent also. I have ever believed that 
 you were the bravest girl in the world, and now that so much 
 depends on your fortitude and nerve, I am sure you will 
 second the efforts of those who are trying to aid you. With 
 the strongest respect and sympathy, 
 
 " ROGER ATWOOD. ''
 
 MILDRED IN A PRISON CELL. 359 
 
 The captain, who soon appeared, saw no objection to this 
 note, and promised that it should be sent to Mildred. 
 
 Roger then went to the nearest restaurant, and procured a 
 delicate and inviting supper, which, with a generous pot of 
 coffee, he carried so swiftly through the storm that it was sent 
 smoking hot to the cell in which Mildred was confined. 
 
 He then hastened to a livery-stable, and, having obtained 
 a carriage, was driven rapidly to the tenement in which the 
 Jocelyns had their rooms. Mr. Jocelyn, fortunately, was 
 absent; for Mildred's natural protector would only have 
 made matters far worse. If the guardians of the law had 
 looked upon the wrecked and fallen man they would have 
 felt that the daughter's alleged crime was already half ex 
 plained. But a visit from Mrs. Jocelyn would make a far 
 different impression, and he determined that she alone 
 should accompany him to the station-house. 
 
 It would be useless to pain the reader with Mrs. Jocelyn' s 
 distress, and for a time Roger thought the tidings would 
 crush the already stricken woman ; but in answer to his 
 appeal she soon rallied in defence of her child. At his 
 request she assumed, as far as possible, the garb of a lady 
 the appearance and bearing of one was inseparable from her. 
 It was with much difficulty that he persuaded the weeping 
 and indignant Belle to remain with the children, for he well 
 knew that she was far too excitable to deal with the police. 
 Having made every provision possible for Mildred's com 
 fort, they soon reached the station-house, and the sergeant 
 in charge greeted them politely ; but on learning their errand 
 he frowned, and said to Mrs. Jocelyn, " No, you can't see her 
 till she is brought into court to-morrow." 
 
 In answer to the mother's appeals and Roger's expostula 
 tions he remarked impatiently, " Do you think I'm going 
 to disobey orders ? Either take my answer or wait till the 
 captain comes in again."
 
 360 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 They had no other resource, and sat down to weary wait 
 ing, the mother weeping silently, and Roger, with sternly 
 knit brows, deep in thought. 
 
 At last the captain returned, and the sergeant rose and 
 said, " Here's the mother of the girl who was taken with 
 stolen goods on her person. She wishes to speak with you. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Well, what is it ?' ' demanded the police-captain a little 
 harshly, turning toward Mrs. Jocelyn ; but his manner soft 
 ened as he looked upon the thin, delicate features which had 
 not yet lost their old, sweet charm, and which now were 
 eloquent with a mother's unspeakable grief and solicitude. 
 " Don't be frightened, madam," he added, somewhat 
 kindly, as he saw the poor woman's ineffectual efforts to rise 
 and speak. "I'm human, and not more hard-hearted than 
 my duties require. ' ' 
 
 At last Mrs. Jocelyn burst forth : " If you have a heart at 
 all, sir, save mine from breaking. My child is innocent it 
 will be proved to-morrow. A year ago we had a happy, 
 beautiful home, and my girl a father whom all men respected. 
 We've had misfortunes, that, thank God, fall to the lot of 
 few, but my child has kept herself spotless through them all. 
 I can prove this. She is in prison, to-night through no fault 
 of hers. Oh, sir, in the name of mother-love, can you keep 
 me from my child ? Can I not see her even for a moment, 
 and say to her one reassuring word ? She may go mad from 
 fear and shame. She may die. Oh, sir, if you have the 
 heart of a man, let me see her, let me speak to her. You, 
 or any one, may be present and see that I mean no harm. ' ' 
 ' There certainly has been some dreadful mistake," 
 Roger put in hastily, as he saw that the man was irresolute, 
 and was regarding the suppliant sympathetically. " People 
 who must command your respect will be glad to testify that 
 Miss Jocelyn' s character is such as to render impossible any 
 thing dishonorable on her part. ' '
 
 MILDRED IN A PRISON CELL. 361 
 
 " Let me warn you," said the officer keenly, " that any 
 such negative testimony will have but little weight against the 
 positive facts in the case." 
 
 " Oh, let me see my child," cried Mrs. Jocelyn, in tones 
 of such passionate pathos that his scruples gave way, and he 
 said to the sergeant, " Let her see the girl ! I'd be a brute 
 to deny her, even if it is against our rules. The doorman 
 need not stand near enough to embarrass them. ' ' 
 
 As Mrs. Jocelyn eagerly descended to the cells in the base 
 ment, the captain remarked to Roger, " The girl's friends 
 will have to bestir themselves if they clear her. The evi- - 
 dence is so strong that she'll be committed for further trial, 
 without doubt. ' ' 
 
 " I think she'll be discharged to-morrow," replied Roger 
 quietly. " I thank you for your kindness to Mrs. Jocelyn." 
 
 " Mere statements as to the girl's previous character will 
 not clear her, ' ' resumed the captain emphatically. ' ' You 
 are a relative, lover, or something, I suppose. This poor 
 woman has knocked my routine methods a little out of gear. 
 One rarely sees a face like hers in a station-house. She evi 
 dently comes of no common stock, and I'd like to hear that 
 the charge is all a mistake, as you claim ; but, young man, 
 you can't meet criminal charges with generalities. You've 
 got to show that she didn' t steal that lace. I wish you suc 
 cess, for the mother's sake at least," and he passed into his 
 private room. 
 
 As Mildred was about to enter the station-house she had 
 looked back, hoping, for the first time in her life, that Roger 
 Atwood was near. The eager and reassuring wave of his 
 hand satisfied her that he would know the place of her im 
 prisonment, and that he would do for her all within his 
 power. Again he had appeared in the hour of misfortune 
 and bitter humiliation. But, in spite of her heart, she now 
 did justice to his sturdy loyalty, and she was comforted and
 
 362 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 sustained by the thought that not quite all the world was 
 against her. She also knew that he would relieve her mother 
 and Belle from unendurable anxiety on account of her ab 
 sence, and that he would summon Mr. Wentworth to her 
 aid. His promise to prove her innocent had meant nothing 
 to her more than that he would inform and rally all of her 
 friends. That he could know anything that would throw 
 light on the evil mystery did not seem possible. She was 
 then too miserable and depressed to do much more than wait, 
 in a sort of stunned torpor, for what might next occur. 
 Mechanically she answered such questions as were put to her 
 in order that a record of the case might be made, and then 
 was led to the cells below. She shuddered as she saw the 
 dimly lighted stairway, and it seemed to her morbid fancy 
 that she was to be thrust into a subterranean dungeon. 
 Such, in a certain sense, it was ; for in some of the older 
 station-houses the cells are located in the basement. At the 
 end of the corridor, nearest the street, she saw several women, 
 and, unkempt and disgusting as these station-house tramps 
 appeared, the fact that some of her own sex were near was re 
 assuring. A prison was to her a place full of nameless hor 
 rors, for the romances she had read in brighter days gave to it 
 the associations of medieval dungeons. Of the prosaic char 
 acter of a modern jail she knew nothing, and when she was 
 placed within a bare cell, and the grated iron door was locked 
 upon her, the horrible desolation of her position seemed as 
 complete and tragic a fate as had ever overtaken the unfortu 
 nate in the cruel past. She sat down upon the grimy wooden 
 bench, which was the only provision made for rest or com 
 fort, and the thought of spending a lonely night in such a 
 place was overpowering. Not that she could hope for sleep, 
 even if there were downy pillows instead of this unredeemed 
 couch of plank on which some beastly inebriate may have 
 slept off his stupor the night before, but she felt weak and
 
 MILDRED IN A PRISON CELL. 363 
 
 faint, and her overtaxed physical nature craved some support 
 and rest. 
 
 Distress of mind, however, soon made her forget all this, 
 as her faculties slowly rallied from the shock they had re 
 ceived, and she began to realize that she was charged with a 
 crime of which it might be difficult perhaps impossible to 
 prove her innocence. At best, she feared she would always 
 be so clouded with suspicion that all would refuse to employ 
 her, and that her blighted life and undeserved shame, added 
 to her father's character, would drag the family down to the 
 lowest depths. The consequences to them all, and especially 
 to Belle, seemed so threatening and terrible that she wrung 
 her hands and moaned aloud. 
 
 At every sound she started up, nervous and morbidly ap 
 prehensive. The grating of the key in the iron door had 
 given her a sense of relief and refuge. The massive bars that 
 shut her in also shut out the brutal and criminal, who were as 
 sociated with a prison in her mind ; the thoughts of whom had 
 filled her very soul with terror, when she was first arrested. As 
 it was early in the evening she happened to be the first pris 
 oner, and she prayed that there might be no others, for the 
 possibility that some foul, drunken man might be thrust into 
 an adjoining cell made her flesh creep. How many long, 
 sleepless hours must pass before morning could bring any 
 hope of release ! And yet she dreaded the coming day 
 unspeakably, for her path to freedom lay through a police 
 court, with all its horrible publicity. Her name might get 
 into the papers, and proud Mrs. Arnold treasure up every scrap 
 of such intelligence about her. The tidings of her shame 
 might be sent to her who as Miss Wetheridge had been her 
 friend, and even she would shrink from one around whom 
 clung such disgraceful associations. Again and again she 
 asked herself, How could the charge against her be met ? 
 How could the family live without her ? What would become
 
 364 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 of them f Belle, alas, would be rendered utterly reckless, 
 because hopeless. The unhappy prisoner was far beyond 
 tears. Even her faith in God failed her, for, seemingly, He 
 had left her the victim of cruel wrong and unredeemed mis 
 fortune. With her hot, dry eyes buried in her hands she sat 
 motionless and despairing, and the moments passed like 
 hours. 
 
 At this crisis in her despair Roger's note was handed to 
 her, and it was like the north star suddenly shining out on 
 one who is benighted and lost. It again kindled hope, with 
 out which mind and body give way in fatal dejection. She 
 kissed the missive passionately, murmuring, with eyes heaven 
 ward, " If he can clear my name from dishonor, if he will 
 rescue my loved ones from the poverty and shame which are 
 now threatening such terrible evils, I will make any sacrifice 
 that he can ask. I will crush out my old vain love, if I die 
 in the effort. My heart shall not prove a traitor to those 
 who are true and loyal at such a time. He can save 
 mamma, Belle, and the children from hopeless poverty, and 
 perhaps destruction. If he will, and it is his wish, Til give 
 all there is left of my unhappy self. I will be his loyal wife 
 would to God I could be his loving wife ! Oh, would to 
 God he had loved Belle instead of me ! I could be devo 
 tion itself as his sister. But surely I can banish my old 
 fond dream which was never more than a dream when 
 one so deserving, so faithful, is willing to give me his strong, 
 helpful hand. We are both very young ; it will be years be 
 fore before and, surely, in so long a time, I can conquer 
 my infatuation for one who has left me all these dreary 
 months without a word. A woman' s heart cannot be proof 
 against reason, gratitude, and the sacred duty owed to those 
 she loves best. At any rate, mine shall not be, and if he 
 still craves the loyalty and and yes, the love of one so 
 shamed and impoverished as I am, he shall have all all,"
 
 MILDRED IN A PRISON CELL. 3 6 5 
 
 and her face grew stern with her purpose of self-mastery. 
 She forced down some of the food he sent, and drank the 
 coffee. " I will be brave," she murmured. " I will try to 
 second his efforts to clear my name, for death were better 
 than shame. I shall, at least, try to deserve his respect." 
 
 Then musingly she added, " How can my friends have 
 gained any information that would prove me innocent ? 
 Mother and Belle cannot know anything definite, nor can 
 Mr. Wentworth. He promised in that brief whisper when 
 he passed me in the street that he would prove it. Can he 
 have learned anything in his strange vigilance ? It seems 
 impossible. Alas, I fear that their best hope is to show that 
 i have hitherto borne a good character, and yet if my present 
 home and our poverty are described, if worse than all 
 papa appears in the court-room, I fear they will think the 
 worst, ' ' and something of her old despair began to return 
 when she heard approaching footsteps. 
 
 " Millie !" cried a loved and familiar voice. The key grat 
 ed in the lock, and in another moment she was sobbing on 
 her mother' s breast, and her bruised heart was healed by the 
 unutterable tenderness of a mother's love. It filled the dark 
 cell with the abounding, undoubting, unquestioning spirit of 
 unselfish devotion, which was akin to the fragrance diffused 
 from the broken box of alabaster. 
 
 When sufficiently calm, Mildred told her mother what had 
 happened, and she in turn whispered that Roger had strong 
 hopes that he could prove her innocence on the following 
 day, though how she did not know. " And yet, Millie," 
 she concluded, " for some reason he inspires me with confi 
 dence, for while he feels so deeply, he is quiet and thought 
 ful about the least thing. Nothing seems to escape his 
 mind, and he says he has some information of which he does 
 not think it best to speak at present He entreats you to 
 take courage, and says that if you will ' keep up and be your
 
 366 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 brave, true self, gentle and strong/ you can do much to aid 
 him. We will all stand by you, and Mr. Wentworth will be 
 with us." 
 
 ' ' Where where is papa ?' ' faltered Mildred, with a slight 
 flush. 
 
 1 ' I don' t know, ' ' responded the wife, with a deep sob. 
 
 " Alas, mother, it's cruel to say it, but it will be best that 
 he should not appear at all. Keep him away if possible. I 
 hope he may never know anything about it, unless you 
 think this terrible result of his course may awaken him to a 
 final struggle to do right. I would gladly surfer anything to 
 save him." 
 
 " No, Millie, he would not be his old self if he came into 
 court," said her mother dejectedly, "and his appearance 
 and manner might turn the scale against you. Our best 
 hope is to let Roger manage everything. And now, good- 
 by, my darling. God sustain you. Do not fear anything 
 to-night. Roger says you are safe, and that his only dread 
 is that you may become nervously prostrated, and he relies 
 on your help to-morrow. I can' t stay any longer. Oh, 
 God, how glad I would be if I could hold you in my arms 
 all night ! Belle is strongly excited, and says she will never 
 believe a word against you, nor will any of your true friends 
 alas ! I wish we had more." 
 
 " Time is up," warned the doorman. 
 
 " Tell Mr. Atwood that I am deeply grateful for his aid, 
 and more grateful for his trust," said Mildred. 
 
 " Courage, Millie ; you can sustain me by keeping up 
 yourself. You will find us in the court-room waiting for 
 you. ' ' 
 
 With an embrace in which heart throbbed against heart 
 they separated, and the poor girl was comforted and more 
 hopeful in spite of herself, for while she would shrink from 
 Roger, her confidence in his shrewdness and intelligence had
 
 MILDRED IN A PRISON CELL. 367 
 
 made such growth that she half believed he would find some 
 way of proving her innocent, although how he had obtained 
 any evidence in her favor she could not imagine. The bed 
 ding brought by her mother transformed the cell-bunk into 
 a comfortable couch, and she lay down and tried to rest, so 
 as to be ready to do her part, and her overtaxed nature soon 
 brought something like sleep. She was startled out of her 
 half-consciousness by a shrill cry, and sprang to her feet 
 There was a confused sound of steps on the stairs, and then 
 again the same wild cry that almost made her heart stand 
 still. A moment later two policemen appeared, dragging a 
 woman, who was resisting and shrieking with demoniacal 
 fury. 
 
 The sight was a horrible one. The faces of the great, stal 
 wart men were reddened by exertion, for the woman seemed 
 to possess supernatural strength, and their familiarity with 
 crime was not so great as to prevent strong expressions of 
 disgust. Little wonder, for if a fiend could embody itself in 
 a woman, this demented creature would leave nothing for the 
 imagination. Her dress was wet, torn, and bedraggled ; her 
 long black hair hung dishevelled around a white, bloated 
 face, from which her eyes gleamed with a fierceness like that 
 of insanity. 
 
 With no little difficulty they thrust her into a cell opposite 
 the one in which Mildred was incarcerated, and as one of the 
 men turned the key upon her he said roughly, " Stay 
 there now, you drunken she-devil, till you are sober," and 
 breathing heavily from their efforts they left the poor wretch 
 to the care of the jailer. 
 
 Mildred shrank away. Not for the world would she en 
 counter the woman's frenzied eyes. Then she stopped her 
 ears, that she might not hear the horrid din and shameful 
 language, which made the place tenfold more revolting. 
 The man in charge of the cells sat dozing stolidly by the
 
 3^8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 stove, some distance away. His repose was not to be dis 
 turbed by such familiar sounds. 
 
 At last the woman became quiet, and Mildred breathed 
 more freely, until some mysterious sounds, suggesting that 
 her terrible neighbor was trying to open her door, awakened 
 her fears, for even the thought of her coming any nearer 
 made her tremble. She therefore sprang up and looked be 
 tween the iron bars. At first she was perplexed by what she 
 saw, and then her heart stood still, for she soon made out 
 that the woman was hanging by the neck, from the highest 
 bar of her cell door. ' ' Help, ' ' Mildred shrieked ; ' ' quick, 
 if you would save life. ' ' 
 
 The man by the stove sprang up and rushed forward. 
 
 " There, see oh, be quick !" 
 
 The jailer comprehended the situation at once, unlocked 
 the door, and cut the parts of her clothing which the woman 
 had improvised into a halter. She soon revived, and cursed 
 him for his interference. He now watched her carefully, 
 paying no heed to her horrible tongue, until the crazed stage 
 of her intoxication passed into stupor. * To Mildred he said, 
 reassuringly, " Don't be afraid ; you're as safe as if you 
 were at home. ' ' 
 
 " Home, home, home !" moaned the poor girl. " Oh, 
 what a mockery that word has become ! My best hope may 
 soon be to find one in heaven." 
 
 * The writer saw the cell in which, on the evening before, the 
 woman described tried twice to destroy herself. He also saw 
 the woman herself, when brought before the police justice. She 
 had seen twenty-five years, but in evil she seemed old indeed. 
 According to her story, she was a daughter of the Puritans.
 
 " A WISE JUDGE." 369 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 "A WISE JUDGE." 
 
 WHEN the interminable night would end Mildred 
 could not guess, for no dawning was visible from 
 her basement cell. The woman opposite gradually became 
 stupid and silent Other prisoners were brought in from 
 time to time, but they were comparatively quiet. A young 
 girl was placed in a cell not far away, and her passionate 
 weeping was pitiful to hear. The other prisoners were gen 
 erally intoxicated or stolidly indifferent, and were soon mak 
 ing the night hideous with their discordant respiration. 
 
 The place had become so terrible to Mildred that she even 
 welcomed the presence of the policeman who had arrested 
 her, and who at last came to take her to the police court. 
 Must she walk with him through the streets in the open light 
 of day ? She feared she would faint on what, in her weak 
 ness, would be a long journey, and her heart gave a great 
 throb of gratitude as she saw Roger awaiting her in the large 
 general room, or entrance, to the station-house. Nor was 
 her appreciation of his kindness diminished when she saw a 
 man in attendance evidently a waiter from a restaurant 
 with a plate of sandwiches and a pot of coffee. Roger came 
 forward, eagerly grasping her hand, and there was so much 
 solicitude and sympathy in his dark eyes that her tears began 
 to gather, and a faint color to suffuse the pallor that at first 
 had startled him. 
 
 "Mr. Atwood," she murmured, "you are kindness it-
 
 37 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 self, and I have not deserved it. Forgive me. I will try 
 not to fail you to-day, for your respect sustains me, and I 
 would not lose it. ' ' 
 
 " I knew your brave spirit would second all our efforts," 
 he said in like low tones, and with a bright, grateful look. 
 " Here, waiter come, Miss Jocelyn, it's by just such prosaic 
 means that soldiers sustain the fight. You'll dine at home. " 
 
 " Yes, hurry up," added the officer ; "we have no time 
 now for words or ceremony." 
 
 She ate a few mouthfuls, and drank some coffee. " I 
 cannot take any more now," she said to Roger. 
 
 Oh, how plainly her womanly instinct divined his un 
 bounded loyalty ; and, with bitter protest at her weakness, 
 she knew with equal certainty that she shrank from his love 
 with her old, unconquerable repugnance. With a dissimu 
 lation which even he did not penetrate, she looked her thanks 
 as the officer led the way to the street, and said, ' ' Since your 
 friends provide the carriage, you can ride, miss ; only we 
 can't part company." 
 
 She stepped into the coach, the policeman taking the op 
 posite seat. 
 
 " Oh, God, how pale and wan she is ! This will kill 
 her," Roger groaned, as he sprang up on the box with the 
 driver. 
 
 It was so early that few were abroad, and yet Mildred 
 would not look up. How could she ever look up again ! 
 The leaden clouds seemed to rest upon the steeples of the 
 churches. Churches ! and such scenes as she had witnessed, 
 and such a wrong as hers, were taking place under the 
 shadow of their spires ! 
 
 Roger had passed as sleepless a night as had fallen to Mil 
 dred's lot, and bitterly he regretted that he had been able to 
 accomplish so little. Mr. Wentworth was out of town, and 
 would not be back for a day or two. Then he sought the
 
 "A WISE JUDGE." 371 
 
 judge before whom Mildred would appear the following 
 morning, and learned, with dismay, that he, too, had gone 
 to a neighboring city, and would return barely in time to 
 open court at the usual hour ! He had hoped that, by tell 
 ing his story beforehand, the judge would adopt his plan of 
 discovering the real culprit. This was still his hope, for, 
 after long thought, he determined not to employ counsel, 
 fearing it would lead to a prolongation of the case. His 
 strong characteristic of self-reliance led him to believe that he 
 could manage the affair best alone, and he was confident 
 from his own inexperience. The rain had ceased, and for 
 hours he paced the wet pavement near the station-house, 
 finding a kind of satisfaction in being as near as possible to 
 the one he loved, though utterly unable to say a reassuring 
 word. 
 
 Having learned that the prisoners might ride to court if 
 the means were provided, he had a carriage ready long before 
 the appointed time, and his presence did much to nerve Mil 
 dred for the ordeal she so much dreaded. 
 
 On reaching the entrance at which the prisoners were ad 
 mitted, he sprang down to assist Mildred to alight ; but the 
 officer said gruffly, " Stand back, young man ; you must 
 have your say in the court-room. You are a little too 
 officious." 
 
 " No, sir ; I'm only most friendly." 
 
 " Well, well, we have our rules," and he led the trem 
 bling girl within the stony portals, and she was locked up in 
 what is termed " the box," with the other female prisoners, 
 who were now arriving on foot 
 
 This was, perhaps, the worst experience she had yet en 
 dured, and she longed for the privacy of her cell again. 
 Never before had she come in contact with such debased 
 wrecks of humanity, and she blushed for womanhood as she 
 cowered in the farthest corner and looked upon her com-
 
 37 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 panions brutal women, with every vice stamped on their 
 bloated features. The majority were habitual drunkards, 
 filthy in person and foul of tongue. True to their depraved 
 instincts, they soon began to ridicule and revile one who, by 
 contrast, proved how fallen and degraded they were. And 
 yet, not even from these did the girl recoil with such horror 
 as from some brazen harpies who said words in her ear that 
 made her hide her face with shame. The officer in charge 
 saw that she was persecuted, and sternly interfered in her 
 behalf, but from their hideous presence and contact she could 
 not escape. 
 
 By some affinity not yet wholly obliterated, the girl she 
 had heard weeping in the night shrank to her side, and her 
 swollen eyes and forlorn appearance could not hide the fact 
 that she was very young, and might be very pretty. Mil 
 dred knew not what to say to her, but she took her hand 
 and held it. This silent expression of sympathy provoked 
 another outburst of grief, and the poor young creature 
 sobbed on Mildred's shoulder as if her heart were breaking. 
 Mildred placed a sustaining arm around her, but her own 
 sustaining truth and purity she could not impart. 
 
 A partition only separated her from the " box" which 
 was simply a large wooden pen with round iron bars facing 
 the corridor to which the male prisoners were brought, one 
 after another, by the policemen who had arrested them. 
 The arrival of the judge was somewhat delayed, and may the 
 reader never listen to such language as profaned her ears 
 during the long hour and a half before the opening of the 
 court. 
 
 Fortunately her turn came rather early, and she at last was 
 ushered to the doorway which looked upon the crowded 
 court-room, and her heart throbbed with hope as she singled 
 out her mother, Belle, Mrs. Wheaton, and Roger, from 
 among long lines of curious and repulsive faces. The former
 
 "A WISE JUDGE." 373 
 
 kissed their hands to her, and tried to give wan, reassuring 
 smiles, which their tears belied. Roger merely bowed gravely, 
 and then, with an expression that was singularly alert and 
 resolute, gave his whole attention to all that was passing. 
 After recognizing her friends, Mildred turned to the judge, 
 feeling that she would discover her fate in his expression and 
 manner. Was he a kindly, sympathetic man, unhardened 
 by the duties of his office ? She could learn but little from 
 his grave, impassive face. She soon feared that she had slight 
 cause for hope, for after what seemed to her an absurdly 
 brief, superficial trial, she saw two of her companions of the 
 ' ' box' ' sentenced to three months' imprisonment. The 
 decision, which to her had such an awful import, was pro 
 nounced in an off-hand manner, and in the matter-of-faet 
 tone with which one would dispose of bales of merchandise, 
 and the floods of tears and passionate appeals seemingly had 
 no more effect on the arbiter of their fates than if he had 
 been a stony image. She could not know that they were 
 old offenders, whose character was well known to the judge 
 and the officers that had arrested them. Such apparent hap 
 hazard justice or injustice had a most depressing effect upon 
 her and the weeping girl who stood a little in advance. 
 
 The next prisoner who appeared before the bar received 
 very different treatment. He was a middle-aged man, and 
 had the appearance and was clothed in the garb of a gentle 
 man. With nervously trembling hands and bowed head, 
 he stood before the judge, who eyed him keenly, after read 
 ing the charge of intoxication in the streets. 
 
 ' ' Have you ever been arrested before ?' ' he asked. 
 
 " No indeed, sir," was the low, emphatic reply. 
 Come up here ; I wish to speak with you. ' ' 
 
 The officer in attendance took the half-comprehending 
 man by the elbow and led him up within the bar before the 
 long desk which ran the whole width of the court-room,
 
 374 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 and behind which the judge sat with his clerks and assist 
 ants. 
 
 " Now tell me all about it," said the judge, and the man 
 in a few words told his story without any palliation. With a 
 gleam of hope Mildred saw the expression of the judge's 
 face change as he listened, and when at last he replied, in 
 tones so low that none could hear them save he to whom 
 they were addressed, she saw that look which wins all 
 hearts the benignant aspect of one who might condemn for 
 evil, but who would rather win and save from evil. The 
 man slowly lifted his eyes to the speaker's face, and hope 
 and courage began to show themselves in his bearing. The 
 judge brought his exhortation to a practical conclusion, for 
 he said, " Promise me that with God's help you will never 
 touch the vile stuff again. ' ' 
 
 The promise was evidently sincere and hearty. ' ' Give 
 me your hand on it, ' ' said his Honor. 
 
 The man started as if he could scarcely believe his ears, 
 then wrung the judge's hand, while his eyes moistened with 
 gratitude. "You are at liberty. Good-morning, sir;" 
 and the man turned and walked through the crowded court 
 room, with the aspect of one to whom manhood had been 
 restored. 
 
 Hope sprang up in Mildred's heart, for she now saw that 
 her fate was not in the hands of a stony-hearted slave of rou 
 tine. She looked toward her relatives, and greeted their tear 
 ful smiles with a wan glimmer of light on her own face, and 
 then she turned to watch the fortunes of the weeping girl 
 who followed next in order. She did not know the charge, 
 but guessed it only too well from the judge's face, as the 
 officer who had arrested her made his low explanation. She, 
 too, was summoned within the rail, and the judge began to 
 question her. At first she was too greatly overcome by her 
 emotions to answer. As she cowered, tremblad, and sobbed,
 
 "A WISE JUDGE." 375 
 
 she might well have been regarded as the embodiment of 
 that shame and remorse which ovenvhelm fallen womanhood 
 before the heart is hardened and the face made brazen by 
 years of vice. Patiently and kindly the judge drew from her 
 faltering lips some pitiful story, and then he talked to her in 
 low, impressive tones, that seemed to go straight to her de 
 spairing soul. A kind, firm, protecting hand might then 
 have led her back to a life of virtue, for such had been her 
 bitter foretastes of the fruits of sin that surely she would have 
 gladly turned from them, could the chance have been given 
 to her. The judge mercifully remitted her punishment, and 
 gave her freedom. Who received her, as she turned her face 
 toward the staring throng that intervened between her and 
 the street ? Some large-hearted woman, bent on rescuing an 
 erring sister ? Some agent of one of the many costly chari 
 ties of the city ? No, in bitter shame, no. Only the vile 
 madam who traded on the price of her body and soul, and 
 who, with vulture-like eyes, had watched the scene. She 
 only had stood ready to pay the fine, if one had been im 
 posed according to the letter of the law. She only received 
 the weak and friendless creature, from whom she held as 
 pledges all her small personal effects, and to whom she 
 promised immediate shelter from the intolerable stare that 
 follows such victims of society. The girl's weak, pretty face, 
 and soft, white hands were but too true an index to her in 
 firm will and character, and, although fluttering and reluc 
 tant, she again fell helpless into the talons of the harpy. 
 Hapless girl ! you will probably stand at this bar again, and 
 full sentence will then be given against you. The judge 
 frowned heavily as he saw the result of his clemency, and 
 then, as if it were an old story, he turned to the next culprit. 
 Mildred had been much encouraged as she watched the issue 
 of the two cases just described ; but as her eyes followed the 
 girl wistfully toward the door of freedom she encountered
 
 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the cold, malignant gaze of the man who had charge of her 
 department at the shop, and who she instinctively felt was 
 the cause of her shameful and dangerous position. By his 
 side sat the two women who had searched her and the lead 
 ing foreman of the store. Sick and faint from apprehension, 
 she turned imploringly toward Roger, who was regarding 
 the floor-walker with such vindictive sternness that she felt 
 the wretch's hour of reckoning would soon come, whatever 
 might be her fate. This added to her trouble, for she feared 
 that she was involving Roger in danger. 
 
 No time was given for thoughts on such side issues, for the 
 prisoner preceding her in the line was sentenced, after a trial 
 of three minutes a summary proceeding that was not hope- 
 inspiring. 
 
 The name of Mildred Jocelyn was now called, and there 
 was a murmur of expectant interest in the court-room, for 
 she was not by any means an ordinary prisoner in appear 
 ance, and there were not a few present who knew something 
 of the case. The young girl ^as pushed before the bar, and 
 would gladly have clung to it, in order to support her trem 
 bling form. But while she could not infuse vigor into her 
 overtaxed muscles, her brave spirit rallied to meet the emer 
 gency, and she fixed her eyes unwaveringly upon the judge, 
 who now for the first time noticed her attentively, and it did 
 not escape her intensely quickened perceptions that his eyes 
 at once grew kindly and sympathetic. Sitting day after day, 
 and year after year, in his position, he had gained a won 
 derful insight into character, and in Mildred's pure, sweet 
 face he saw no evidence of guilt or of criminal tendencies. 
 It was, indeed, white with fear, and thin from wearing toil 
 and grief ; but this very pallor made it seem only more spirit 
 ual and free from earthliness, while every feature, and the 
 unconscious grace of her attitude, bespoke high breeding 
 and good blood.
 
 "A WISE JUDGE:' 377 
 
 First, the officer who arrested her told his story, and then 
 Ihe elder of the two women who searched her was summoned 
 as the first witness. The judge looked grave, and he glanced 
 uneasily at the prisoner from time to time ; but the same 
 clear, steadfast eyes met his gaze, unsullied by a trace of 
 guilt. Then the second woman corroborated the story of her 
 associate, and the judge asked, " How came you to suspect 
 the prisoner so strongly as to search her ?" and at this point 
 the floor-walker was summoned. 
 
 The vigilant magistrate did not fail to note the momentary 
 glance of aversion and horror which Mildred bestowed upon 
 this man, and then her eyes returned with so deep and 
 pathetic an appeal to his face that his heart responded, and 
 his judgment led him also to believe that there was error and 
 perhaps wrong in the prosecution. Still he was compelled to 
 admit to himself that the case looked very dark for the girl, 
 who was gaining so strong a hold on his sympathy. 
 
 " I must inform your Honor," began the witness plausi 
 bly, after having been sworn, ' ' that laces had been missed 
 from the department in which this girl was employed, and I 
 was keenly on the alert, as it was my duty to be. Some 
 suspicious circumstances led me to think that the prisoner 
 was the guilty party, and the search proved my suspicions to 
 be correct." 
 
 " What were the suspicious circumstances ?" 
 The man seemed at a loss for a moment. " Well, your 
 Honor, she went to the cloak-room yesterday afternoon, ' ' he 
 said. 
 
 " Do not all the girls go to the cloak-room occasionally ?" 
 " Yes, but there was something in her face and manner 
 that fastened my suspicions upon her." 
 " What evidences of guilt did you detect ?" 
 ' ' I can scarcely explain nothing very tangible. The evi 
 dences of guilt were found on her person, your Honor."
 
 3?8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Yes, so much has been clearly shown." 
 
 ' ' And she was very reluctant to be searched, which would 
 not have been the case had she been conscious of innocence. " 
 
 The woman who searched her was now asked, ' ' Did she 
 shrink from search, in such a manner as to betoken guilt?" 
 
 " I can't say that she did show any fear of being searched 
 by us," was the reply. " She refused to be searched in the 
 private office of the firm." 
 
 ;< That is, in the presence of men ? Quite naturally she 
 did." Then to the floor- walker, " Have your relations 
 with this girl been entirely friendly?" 
 
 " I am glad to say I have no relations with her whatever. 
 My relations are the same that I hold to the other girls 
 merely to see that they do their duty." 
 
 ' You are perfectly sure that you have never cherished any 
 ill-will toward her?" 
 
 " So far from it, I was at first inclined to be friendly." 
 
 " What do you mean by the term friendly ?" 
 
 " Well, your Honor" (a little confusedly), "the term 
 seems plain enough." 
 
 " And she did not reciprocate your friendship ?" was the 
 keen query. 
 
 " After I came to know her better, I gave her no occasion 
 to reciprocate anything ; and, pardon me, your Honor, I 
 scarcely see what bearing these questions have on the plain 
 facts in the case." 
 
 A slight frown was the only evidence that the judge had 
 noted the impertinent suggestion that he did not know his 
 business. 
 
 ' ' Are you perfectly sure that you cherish no ill-will toward 
 the prisoner ?' ' 
 
 " I simply wish to do my duty by my employers. I 
 eventually learned that her father was an opium-eater and a 
 sot, and I don't fancy that kind of people. That is my ex-
 
 "A WISE JUDGE:' 379 
 
 planation, ' ' he concluded, with a large attempt at dignity, 
 and in a tone that he evidently meant all should hear. 
 
 " Her father is not on trial, and that information was un 
 called for. Have you any further testimony?" the judge 
 asked coldly. 
 
 " No, sir," and he stepped down amid a suppressed hiss 
 in the court-room, for the spectators evidently shared in the 
 antipathy with which he had inspired the keen-eyed but im 
 passive and reticent magistrate, who now beckoned Mildred 
 to step up close to him, and she came to him as if he were 
 her friend instead of her judge. He was touched by her 
 trust ; and her steadfast look of absolute confidence made 
 him all the more desirous of protecting her, if he could find 
 any warrant for doing so. She said to him unmistakably by 
 her manner, " I put myself in your hands." 
 
 " My child," the judge began seriously, yet kindly, " this 
 is a very grave charge that is brought against you, and if it is 
 your wish you can waive further trial before me at this stage 
 of proceedings, for unless you can prove yourself innocent at 
 this preliminary examination, your case must be heard before 
 a higher court. Perhaps you had better obtain counsel, and 
 have the whole matter referred at once to the grand jury." 
 
 " I would rather be tried by you, sir," Mildred replied, in 
 a vibrating voice full of deep, repressed feeling ; " I am in 
 nocent. It would be like death to me to remain longer un 
 der this shameful charge. I have confidence in you. I 
 know I am guiltless. Please let me me be tried now, now, 
 for I cannot endure it any longer. ' ' 
 
 "Very well, then ;" and he handed her a small, grimy 
 Bible, that, no doubt, had been kissed by scores of perjured 
 lips. But Mildred pressed hers reverently upon it, as she 
 swore to " tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but 
 the truth." 
 
 After a few preliminary questions as to age, etc., the jus-
 
 380 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 tice said, reassuringly, " Now tell your story briefly and 
 clearly. ' ' 
 
 It was indeed a brief story, and it had the impress of truth ; 
 but his Honor looked very grave as he recognized how little 
 there was in it to refute the positive testimony already given. 
 " Have you witnesses ?" he asked. 
 
 ' ' My mother and sister are present, and and a young 
 man who thinks he knows something in my favor." 
 
 " I will hear your mother first," said the judge, believing 
 that in her he would find the chief source of character ; and 
 when the sad, refined gentlewoman stood beside her daugh 
 ter, he was all the more convinced that the girl ought to be 
 innocent, and that all his insight into character and its origin 
 would be at fault if she were not. In low, eager tones, Mrs. 
 Jocelyn spoke briefly of their misfortunes, and testified as to 
 Mildred's conduct. " She has been an angel of patience and 
 goodness in our home," she said, in conclusion ; " and if 
 this false charge succeeds, we shall be lost and ruined in 
 deed. My daughter's pastor is out of town, and in our 
 poverty we have few friends who could be of any service. 
 An old neighbor, Mrs. Wheaton, is present, and will confirm 
 my words, if you wish ; but we would thank your Honor if 
 you will call Mr. Roger Atwood, who says he has informa 
 tion that will aid my child." 
 
 " Very well, madam," responded the judge kindly, " we 
 will hear Mr. Atwood." 
 
 Roger was now sworn, while Mrs. Jocelyn returned to her 
 seat. In the young fellow's frank, honest face the judge 
 found an agreeable contrast with the ill-omened visage of the 
 floor-walker, whose good looks could not hide an evil nature. 
 
 " I must beg your Honor to listen to me with patience," 
 Roger began in a low tone, " for my testimony is peculiar, 
 and does not go far enough unless furthered by your Honor's 
 skill in cross-questioning ;" and in eager tones, heard only
 
 "A WISE JUDGE. 1 ' 38* 
 
 by the judge, he told what he had seen, and suggested his 
 theory that if the girl, whom he had followed two evenings 
 before, could be examined previous to any communication 
 with her accomplice, she would probably admit the whole 
 guilty plot. 
 
 The judge listened attentively, nodding approvingly as 
 Roger finished, and said, " Leave me to manage this affair. 
 I wish you to go at once with an officer, point out this girl 
 to him, and bring her here. She must not have communi 
 cation with any one. Nor must anything be said to her 
 relating to the case by either you or the officer. Leave her 
 wholly to me." 
 
 A subpoena was made out immediately and given to a 
 policeman, with a few whispered and emphatic injunctions, 
 and Roger was told to accompany him. 
 
 " This case is adjourned for the present You may sit 
 with your mother within the railing," he added kindly to 
 Mildred. 
 
 The floor-walker had been watching the turn that the pro 
 ceedings were taking with great uneasiness, and now was 
 eager to depart, in order to caution the girl that Roger was in 
 pursuit of against admitting the least knowledge of the affair ; 
 but the judge was too quick for him, and remarked that he 
 was not through with him yet, and requested that he and the 
 representative of the firm should remain. The two women 
 who had testified against Mildred were permitted to depart. 
 Then, as if dismissing the case from his mind, he proceeded 
 to dispose of the other prisoners. 
 
 Belle joined her sister, and greeted her with great effusive 
 ness, looking ready to champion her against the world ; but 
 they at last quieted her, and waited with trembling impatience 
 and wonder for the outcome of Roger's mission. 
 
 The girl who had been led to wrong Mildred so greatly re 
 turned to the shop that morning with many misgivings, which
 
 3 82 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 were much increased when she learned what had occurred. 
 She also telt that her accomplice had dealt treacherously in 
 allowing such serious proceedings against Mildred, for he had 
 promised that she should be merely taxed with theft and 
 warned to seek employment elsewhere. " If he deceives in 
 one respect he will in another, and I' m not safe from arrest 
 either, ' ' she said to herself, and she made so many blunders 
 in her guilty preoccupation that she excited the surprise of 
 her companions. As she was waiting on a customer she 
 heard a voice remark, " That's the girl," and looking up 
 she grew faint and white as she saw, standing before her, a 
 policeman, who served his subpoena at once, saying, "You 
 must go with me immediately." 
 
 Frightened and irresolute, she stammered that she knew 
 nothing about the affair. 
 
 " Well, then, you must come and tell his Honor so." 
 
 " Must I go ?" she appealed to one of the firm, who hap 
 pened to be near. 
 
 "Certainly," he replied, examining the subpoena; "go 
 and tell all you know, or if you don't know anything, say so." 
 
 " I don't see why I should be dragged into the case " 
 she began brazenly. 
 
 " There's the reason," said the officer impatiently ; 
 ' ' that subpoena has the power of bringing any man or woman 
 in the city. ' ' 
 
 Seeing that resistance was useless, she sullenly accompa 
 nied them to a street-car, and was soon in readiness to be 
 called upon for her testimony. The judge having disposed 
 of the case then on trial, Mildred was again summoned to 
 the bar, and the unwilling witness was sent for. She only 
 had time to cast a reproachful glance at the man who, she 
 feared, had betrayed her, and who tried, by his manner, to 
 caution her, when the judge demanded her attention, he 
 having in the mean time noted the fellow's effort.
 
 "A WISE JUDGE: 3 8 3 
 
 " Stand there," he said, placing her so that her back was 
 toward the man who sought to signal silence. " Officer, 
 swear her. Now, ' ' he resumed severely, ' ' any deviation 
 from the truth, and the whole truth, will be perjury, which, 
 you know, is a State-prison offence. I can assure you most 
 honestly that it will be better for you, in all respects, to hide 
 nothing, for you will soon discover that I know something 
 about this affair." 
 
 After the preliminary questions, which were asked with 
 impressive solemnity, he demanded, " Did you not leave 
 the shop on Tuesday evening, and pass up the Avenue to 
 Street?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 ' ' Did you not look back twice, to see if you were fol 
 lowed ?" 
 
 " I may have looked back." 
 
 " You don't deny it, then ?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Did not Mr. Bissel, the floor- walker, join you in 
 
 Street, before you had gone very far ?" 
 
 "Ye yes, sir," with a start. 
 
 " Did he not say something that agitated you very much ?" 
 
 ' ' He may have frightened me, ' ' she faltered. 
 
 ' ' Yes, he probably did ; but why ? Did you not make a 
 strong gesture of protest against what he said ?' ' 
 
 " Yes, sir," with a troubled stare at the judge. 
 
 1 ' Did you not go on with him very quietly and submis 
 sively, after a moment or two ?" 
 
 ' ' Yes, sir, ' ' and her face now was downcast, and she be 
 gan to tremble. 
 
 ' ' Did you not enter a covered alley-way, that led to tene* 
 ments in the rear?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," with increasing agitation. 
 
 " Well, what did you do there ?"
 
 384 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Has he told on me, your Honor?" she gasped, with a 
 sudden flood of tears. 
 
 ' ' What he has done is no concern of yours. You are un 
 der oath to tell the whole truth. There was a single gas-jet 
 burning in the covered passage-way, was there not?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," sobbing violently. 
 
 ' ' Has Miss Mildred Jocelyn ever wronged you ?' * 
 
 *' N no, sir, not that I know of." 
 
 44 Now tell me just what occurred under that gas-jet." 
 
 44 I'll tell your Honor the whole truth," the girl burst out, 
 41 if your Honor' 11 let me off this time. It's my first offence, 
 and we' re poor, and I was driven to it by need, and he prom 
 ised me that Miss Jocelyn wouldn't suffer anything worse 
 than a warning to find another place. ' ' 
 
 Believing that her accomplice had betrayed her, she told 
 the whole story without any concealment, fully exonerating 
 Mildred. Although the judge maintained his stern, im 
 passive aspect throughout the scene, he hugely enjoyed the 
 floor-walker's dismay and confusion, and his tortured in 
 ability to warn the girl to deny everything. 
 
 " Please, your Honor, forgive me this time," sobbed the 
 trembling witness in conclusion, " and I'll never do wrong 
 again. ' ' 
 
 44 I have no right or power to punish you," replied the 
 judge ; "it rests wholly with your employers whether they 
 will prosecute you or not. Send that floor-walker here" (to 
 an officer). ' ' Well, sir, what have you to say to this testi 
 mony ?" he asked, as the fellow shuffled forward, pale and 
 irresolute. ' ' Remember, you are still under oath. ' ' 
 
 The wily villain, caught in his own trap, hesitated. He 
 was tempted to deny that the plot against Mildred was at his 
 instigation ; but, like the girl, he saw that the judge had 
 mysterious information on the subject, and he could not tell 
 how far this knowledge went. If he entered on a series of
 
 "A WISE JUDGE." 385 
 
 denials he might be confronted by another witness. The 
 young man who had been sent to identify the girl, and whose 
 unexpected presence had brought such disaster, might have 
 been concealed in the passage-way, and so have seen and 
 heard all. With the fear of an indictment for perjury before 
 his eyes the fellow began to whine. 
 
 ' ' I was only trying to protect the interests of my employ 
 ers, I had suspected the Jocelyn girl " At this there 
 arose from the court-room a loud and general hiss, which the 
 judge repressed, as he sternly interposed, 
 
 ' ' We have nothing to do with your suspicions. Do you 
 deny the testimony ?' ' 
 
 " No, sir ; but " 
 
 " That's enough. No words ; step down." Then turn 
 ing to Mildred, he said kindly and courteously, " Miss Joce 
 lyn, it gives me pleasure to inform you that your innocence 
 has been clearly shown. I should also inform you that this 
 man Bissel has made himself liable to suit for damages, and 
 I hope that you will prosecute him. I am sorry that you 
 have been subjected to so painful an ordeal. You are now 
 at liberty." 
 
 ' ' I thank oh, I thank and bless your Honor, ' ' said Mil 
 dred, with such a depth of gratitude and gladness in her face 
 that the judge smiled to himself several times that day. It 
 was like a burst of June sunshine after a storm. While the 
 witness was admitting the facts which would prove her guilt 
 less, Mildred was scarcely less agitated than the wretched girl 
 herself ; but her strong excitement showed itself not by tears, 
 but rather in her dilated eyes, nervously trembling form, and 
 quickly throbbing bosom. Now that the tension was over 
 she sank on a bench near, and covering her eyes, from which 
 gushed a torrent of tears, with her hands, murmured audibly, 
 ' ' Thank God ! oh, thank God ! He has not deserted me 
 after all. ' '
 
 3^6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Looks of strong sympathy were bent upon her from all 
 parts of the room, and even the judge himself was so much 
 affected that he took prompt refuge in the duties of his office, 
 and summoning the foreman of the shop, said, " You may 
 inform your employers how matters stand." This function 
 ary had been regarding the later stage of the proceedings in 
 undisguised astonishment, and now hastened to depart with 
 his tidings, the floor-walker following him with the aspect of 
 a whipped cur, and amid the suppressed groans and hisses of 
 the spectators. The girl, too, slunk away after them in the 
 hope of making peace with her employers. 
 
 The judge now observed that Roger had buttonholed a re 
 porter, who had been dashing off hieroglyphics that meant a 
 spicy paragraph the following day. Summoning the young 
 man, he said, as if the affair were of slight importance, 
 " Since the girl has been proved innocent, and will have no 
 further relation to the case, I would suggest that, out of 
 deference to her friends and her own feelings, there be no 
 mention of her name," and the news-gatherer good-naturedly 
 acceded to the request. 
 
 A new case was called, and new interests, hopes, and fears 
 agitated the hearts of other groups, that had been drawn to 
 the judgment-seat by the misfortunes or crimes of those 
 bound to them by various ties. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn would not leave the place, which she had so 
 dreaded, until Roger could accompany them, and they chafed 
 at every moment of delay that prevented their pouring out 
 their thanks. But Mildred's heart was too full for words. 
 She fully understood how great a service he had rendered 
 her. She bitterly reproached herself for all her prejudice in 
 the past, and was in a mood for any self-sacrifice that he 
 would ask. Tears of deep and mingled feeling fell fast, and 
 she longed to escape from the staring crowd. Not before 
 such witnesses could she speak and look the gratitude she felt
 
 "A WISE JUDGE." 387 
 
 With downcast eyes and quivering lips she followed her 
 mother to whom Roger had given his arm from the court 
 room. A carriage stood at the door, into which Mrs. Joce- 
 lyn was hurried before she could speak ; then turning so 
 promptly that there was no chance even for exuberant Belle 
 or the effervescing Mrs. Wheaton to utter a syllable, Roger 
 seized Mildred's hand, and said earnestly, " Thanks for your 
 aid, Miss Jocelyn. I thought you were the bravest girl in 
 the world, and you have proved it. I am as glad as you are, 
 and this is the happiest moment of my life. I've just one 
 favor to ask please rest, and don't worry about anything- - 
 not anything. That's all. Good-by, for I must be off to 
 business ;" and before she or any of them could speak he 
 caught a swiftly passing street-car and disappeared.
 
 388 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 "I AM SO PERPLEXED." 
 
 THE little group that Roger left on the sidewalk looked 
 after him in a dazed manner for a moment, and then 
 Belle exclaimed, a trifle indignantly, ' ' Well, I declare, if 
 he hasn't thanked you, instead of you thanking him." 
 
 Mildred sprang into the carriage, feeling that she must have 
 some refuge at once, and, burying her face on her mother's 
 shoulder, burst into another passion of tears. 
 
 ' ' There, there, ' ' said Mrs. Wheaton, as they were driven 
 toward their home ; " the poor child's 'eart is too full for 
 hany neat speeches now. Ven they meets hagain she' 11 thank 
 him with heyes an' 'and, better than hany vords 'ere hon the 
 street. He vas too bright a chap to take his thanks in this 
 'ere public place." 
 
 To their surprise, Mildred raised her head, and replied, in 
 strong protest, " You do him wrong, Mrs. Wheaton. He 
 was so modest and manly that he wished to escape all thanks. 
 He has taken a noble revenge on me for all my stupid preju 
 dice. ' ' 
 
 " That's right," cried ecstatic Belle. " Honest confession 
 is good for the soul. I' 11 admit that most men and women 
 are made of dust street dust at that but Roger Atwood is 
 pure gold. He has the quickest brain and steadiest hand of 
 any fellow in the world, and he' 11 stand up at the head before 
 he' s gray. ' ' 
 
 Fortunately, Mr. Jocelyn was not at home when they re-
 
 "I AM SO PERPLEXED." 389 
 
 turned, and they had a chance to take a quiet breath after 
 their strong excitement. Mrs. Wheaton, with many hearty 
 congratulations and words of cheer, took her departure. 
 Mrs. Jocelyn was justly solicitous about Mildred, fearing that 
 the reaction from an ordeal that would tax the strongest 
 might bring utter prostration to her delicate and sensitive 
 organism. Mildred's manner soon threatened to realize her 
 worst fears. She had passed a sleepless night, and was faint 
 from fatigue, and yet, as the hours lapsed, she grew more 
 nervously restless. Her eyes were hot and dry, sometimes so 
 full of resolution that they were stern in their steadfastness, 
 and again her face expressed a pathetic irresoluteness and sad 
 ness that made the mother's heart ache. 
 
 ' ' Millie, ' ' she whispered, as she came to the bed on which 
 the girl was tossing restlessly, " there's something on yoiu 
 mind. Mother's eyes are quick in reading the face of hei 
 child. You are thinking you are debating something that 
 won't let you rest, when you need rest so much. Oh, Mil 
 lie darling, my heart was growing apathetic it seemed 
 almost dead in my breast. I've suffered on account of your 
 father, till it seemed as if I couldn't suffer any more ; but 
 your peril and your troubled face teach me that it is not 
 dead, and that my best solace now is devotion to my chil 
 dren. What is it, Millie, that you are turning over in your 
 mind, which makes you look so desperately sad and fearful, 
 and again and then your expression frightens me so deter 
 mined as if you were meditating some step, which, I fear, 
 you ought not to take ? Oh, Millie, my child, the worst that 
 I know about is bad enough, God knows, but your face 
 makes me dread that you may be led by your troubles to do 
 something which you would not think of were you less 
 morbid and overwrought. I may have seemed to you a 
 poor, weak woman in all of our troubles, but mother' s love 
 is strong, if her mind and body are not."
 
 39 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Mamma, mamma, do not judge me or yourself so 
 harshly. You have always been my ideal, mamma, and I 
 was thinking of nothing worse than how to rescue you and 
 the others from your desperate straits. How can we go on 
 living in this way, your heart breaking, your poor, frail body 
 overtaxed with coarse labor, and Belle, Minnie, and Fred be 
 coming contaminated by our dreadful surroundings. The 
 shock I've received has awakened me from my old apathy. 
 I see that while I just toiled for daily bread, and a little of it 
 too, we were drifting down, down. Papa grows worse and 
 worse. Belle is in danger ; and what will become of Fred 
 and Minnie if they remain long amid such scenes ? Only 
 yesterday morning I heard Fred quarrelling with another 
 little boy on the landing, and lisping out oaths in his anger. 
 Oh, mamma, we must be able to look forward to some 
 escape from all this, or else you will soon give way to de 
 spair, and the worst will come. Oh that I were a man ! 
 Oh that I knew how to do something, through which I 
 could earn enough to put papa into an institution, such as I 
 have read of, and give you a home worthy of the name. 
 But I cannot. I can only do what thousands of others can 
 do, and take my chances with them in getting work. And 
 now I seem so broken down in body and soul that I feel as 
 if I could never work again. There seems to be one way, 
 mamma, in which I can help you. " And then she hesi 
 tated, and a deep, burning flush crimsoned the face that was 
 so pale before. " Well," she said, at last, in a kind of des 
 peration, ' ' I might as well speak plainly, if I speak at all. 
 It's no secret to you how Roger Atwood feels toward me, 
 and also, mamma, you know my heart. While I could kiss 
 his hand in gratitude, while I would not shrink from any 
 suffering for his sake, to show how deeply I appreciate the 
 priceless service he has rendered me, still, mamma, mamma, 
 I'm only a woman, and am cursed with all the perversity of
 
 " / AM SO PERPLEXED." 391 
 
 a woman's heart. Oh, what a loyal friend, what a devoted 
 sister I could be to him ! Mamma, can't you understand 
 me ?' ' 
 
 " Yes, Millie," sadly answered her mother. 
 
 " Well, mamma, I'm so perplexed. It seems for his 
 sake, since we have become so poor and disgraced, that I 
 ought to refuse his suit. To the world, and especially to his 
 friends, it will appear dreadfully selfish that we should link 
 our wretched fortunes to his, and so cloud his prospects and 
 impede his progress. I can't tell you how I dread such 
 criticism. And yet, mamma, you know no, mamma, even 
 you cannot understand how great would be my self-sacrifice, 
 when to others it will appear that I am only too glad to 
 cling to one who gives some promise of better days. But the 
 turning point has now come. Hitherto my manner toward 
 Mr. Atwood has been unmistakable, and he has understood 
 me ; and were he obtuseness itself he could not fail to un 
 derstand me. But after what has happened I cannot treat 
 him so any longer. It would be shameful ingratitude. In 
 deed, in my cell last night I almost vowed that if he 
 would prove me innocent if he would save you and Belle 
 and the children, I would make any sacrifice that he would 
 ask. If I feel this way he will know it, for he almost reads 
 my thoughts, he is so quick, and his feeling for me is so 
 deep. And yet, mamma, now that I have thought more I 
 fear that in sacrificing my own heart I am also sacrificing 
 him. His friends will think so, at least. He is so young, 
 chivalric, and unworldly that he may think it a noble thing 
 to help us fight out our battle ; but will he think so in com 
 ing years ? Will he think so if the struggle is long and 
 hard ? Will he think so if we impede and retard him ? Alas, 
 will he think so if he finds that I can give him only gratitude 
 and respect? Oh, mamma, I am so perplexed. I don't 
 want to wrong him ; I can't see you suffer on hopelessly
 
 392 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 and helplessly, and therefore it seems I ought to give l:fl< the 
 right to help us should he seek for it, as I feel suro he will if 
 I show any relenting. We could not be marri^ti for a long 
 time ; but if we were engaged he could do su<ich to shield 
 and protect us all ; and now, alas, we havo no protector. 
 Belle needs one oh, how sorely she needs one and what 
 would have been my fate had he not come to my aid ? It 
 would seem heartless in me to say simply, Thank you, sir ; 
 and yet, what heart have I to give in excha. ^>e for his devo 
 tion ? He deserves so much, and I can giw so little. Oh, 
 mamma, will an old love die and a new on*> grow because 
 they because you wish it, and pray for it ? v am so per 
 plexed, so tossed and torn by my conflicting thoughts and 
 feelings that my poor brain reels, and it seenu. KS if I should 
 lose my reason. And yet I must decide upon some course, 
 for if, after his loyalty to me, I give him hope, I' 11 not disap 
 point him if I died a thousand times no, not if Vinton 
 Arnold came and laid all his wealth at my feet ; I can see his 
 love in every glance of his eye, still more can I feel it when 
 he is near me ; and if I offer him friendship or a sister's affec 
 tion, it will seem to him like giving a stone for bread. But 
 I must offer him only these or else give him hope a hope 
 that it would now be dishonor to disappoint. Mamma, 
 mamma, what shall I do what ought I to do ?' ' 
 
 During this outpouring of her child's soul Mrs. Jocelyn 
 was much agitated, and wiped tear after tear from her eyes. 
 The impulse of her loyal, unworldly heart was first to take 
 sides with Mildred's faithfulness to her earliest love, but her 
 reason condemned such a course so positively that she said 
 all she could against it. " Millie," she began, falteringly at 
 first, ' ' I feel with you and for you deeply. I know your 
 rare quality of fidelity of constancy. You are an old-fash 
 ioned Southern girl in this respect. While I would not have 
 you wrong your heart, you must not blindly follow its im-
 
 "I AM SO PERPLEXED." 393 
 
 pulses. It is often said that women have no reason, though 
 some are calculating enough, Heaven knows. Surely, Mil 
 lie, this is a case in which you should take some counsel of 
 your reason, your judgment ; and believe me, darling, I 
 speak more for your sake than ours. While I admit that 
 Roger has become very dear to me, I would not sacrifice you, 
 my love, even in our sore straits. It is of you I think 
 chiefly. I cannot endure the thought that the future of my 
 darling child may be utterly blighted. I cannot bear to think 
 of your settling down into a weary working-woman, with 
 nothing to look forward to but daily drudgery for daily bread." 
 
 " I do not dread that so much, mamma oh, nothing 
 like so much as a long and perhaps a vain effort to love one 
 who has a sacred right to love as well as loyalty. ' ' 
 
 "Millie, you don't know how lonely and desolate your 
 life might become. Millie forgive me for saying it your 
 old love is utterly vain. ' ' 
 
 " I know it, mamma," said Mildred, with a low sob. 
 
 1 ' Therefore, my darling, the sweetness and goodness of 
 your young life ought not to be wasted on that which is vain 
 and empty. If Mr. Arnold were worthy of your affections 
 he would not have left you all this time without even a word. 
 And, Millie, we may as well face the truth : we never be 
 longed to the Arnolds' world, and it was wicked folly, for 
 which I suffer hourly remorse, that we ever tried to approach 
 it. If, instead of attempting to live like our rich neighbors, 
 I had saved a goodly portion of your father's income, all 
 might have been so different ; but I was never taught to save, 
 and I was just blind blind. I never see your father but the 
 thought comes, like a stab in the heart, I might have pre 
 vented it. Oh, if I had only stayed with him ! It was dur 
 ing that fatal separation that he formed the habit which will 
 cause his death and mine." (Poor Mrs. Jocelyn always re 
 mained under this illusion.)
 
 394 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 "Oh, mamma, mamma, don't talk that way; I can't 
 bear it. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I must prepare you, Millie, darling, for what I clearly 
 foresee. Martin is destroying himself, and I shall not long 
 survive him. Oh, Millie, it's a terrible thing to love a weak 
 man as I love your father. I love him so that his course is 
 killing me. It could not be otherwise, for I am much to 
 blame. Don't interrupt me ; I am speaking these bitter 
 words for your ultimate good. Your life is before you ' ' 
 
 " Mamma, how can my life be before me if you die 
 broken-hearted ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Because you are young. You know that it would add 
 tenfold bitterness to my already overflowing cup if I saw no 
 chance for you, Belle, and the little ones. You may soon 
 have to be mother and sister both. I forewarn you, because, 
 as Roger says, you are strong as well as gentle, and you must 
 not just drift helplessly toward we know not what. Oh, 
 Millie, my poor crushed heart must have one consolation 
 before it is at rest. Roger is not, and never will be, a weak 
 man. It is not in his nature to give way to fatal habits. I, 
 too, with a woman's eye, have seen his deep, strong affection 
 for you, and with a mother's jealous love I have studied his 
 character. He is a young giant, Millie, whom you uncon 
 sciously awoke to manhood. He comes of a sturdy, practi 
 cal race, and unites to their shrewdness a chivalric Southern 
 heart and large brain. He doesn' t begin to know, himself, 
 how much of a man he is, but the experience of life will fast 
 develop him. He is one who will master circumstances, and 
 not be moulded by them. Obstacles will only stimulate his 
 will. Your prejudice and dislike have not made him falter 
 a moment. In the heart of a girl like you, Millie, I truly 
 believe that a new love for such a man will surely spring up, 
 and grow and strengthen with each succeeding year, and you 
 would be worthy of him. You could make him happy, and
 
 "I AM SO PERPLEXED." 395 
 
 eventually add greatly to his success. He is sure to become 
 eminent, and be burdened with many large affairs, and the 
 home you could make for him would be a refuge and a 
 resting-place from which he would go out daily, strong and 
 refreshed. Let his friends say what they please at first He 
 has his own career to make, and in his choice of you he has 
 shown how unerring and sound his instincts are, and you can 
 prove them so, and will, I think, when time has given your 
 morbid and unhappy heart its healthful tone. Mrs. Whea- 
 ton has done much work at his uncle's house, and Mrs. At- 
 wood talks to her quite freely. Mrs. Wheaton says they are 
 wealthy, although they live so plainly, and that Mr. Atwood, 
 Roger's uncle, is wonderfully taken with the young man, 
 and means to give him a chance to climb among the highest, 
 if he continues to be so steady and persevering. Of course 
 you know that Roger will never be anything else than steady. 
 And Mrs. Wheaton also says that Mr. Atwood will, no 
 doubt, leave everything to him, for he has no children." 
 
 "I'm sorry you have told me this," sighed Mildred ; "it 
 would have been hard enough at best, but I should feel 
 almost mercenary now." 
 
 " Oh, Millie, you are too morbid and proud for anything," 
 expostulated Mrs. Jocelyn, in whom no misfortune or sorrow 
 could wholly blot out her old, mild passion for making good 
 matches for her daughters good matches in the right sense 
 of the word for she would look for worth, or what seemed 
 worth to her, as well as the wealth that is too often considered 
 solely. She had sought to involve Vinton Arnold by inno 
 cent wiles, and now, in pathetic revival of her old trait, she 
 was even more bent on providing for Mildred by securing a 
 man after her own heart Love for her daughter, far more 
 than ambition, was the mainspring of her motive, and surely 
 her gentle schemes were not deserving of a very harsh judg 
 ment. She could not be blamed greatly for looking with
 
 396 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 wistful eyes on the one ray of light falling on her darkening 
 path. 
 
 After a brief, troubled silence Mrs. Jocelyn resumed, with 
 pathos and pleading in her voice, "Millie, darling, if this 
 could all be, it would brighten my last days." 
 
 ' ' There, there, mamma ; as far as I can carry out your 
 wishes, it shall be. I had already virtually promised it, 
 and I should be perverse indeed could I not do all all in 
 my power to brighten your sad life. But, darling mamma, 
 you must promise to live in return. A palace would be des 
 olate if you were not seated in the snuggest corner of the 
 hearth. I'll try to love him ; I know I ought to give my 
 whole heart to one who is so worthy, and who can do so 
 much to brighten your life." 
 
 " Blessings on you, Millie. You will soon learn to return 
 all his affection. You are both young, and it will probably 
 be years before you can be married. In the mean time you 
 will have a protector and friend who will have the right to aid 
 you. You were slowly dying for want of air and change and 
 hope. You worked all day, and shut yourself up in this 
 miserable place at night, and it could not last ; as your 
 affianced he can take your part against the world, and protect 
 Belle ; and during the years while he is making his way up 
 ward, you will learn to love him. You will become interested 
 in his studies, hopes, and prospects. You will encourage, 
 and at the same time prevent undue application, for no man 
 knows how to take care of himself. He can be our deliverer, 
 and you his good angel. Your relations and long engage 
 ment may not be exactly conventional ; but he is not con 
 ventional, neither is your need nor our sad fortunes. Since 
 God has put within our reach this great alleviation of our sor 
 row, ought we to refuse it ?" 
 
 " Set your mind at rest, mamma; you have made duty 
 plain. I will do my best, and it now all rests with Roger."
 
 "I AM SO PERPLEXED." 397 
 
 " Millie, you are a dear, good child," said the mother 
 brokenly, and with smiles shining like light through her 
 tears ; and after a close embrace she went out, closing the 
 door that the weary girl might rest at last 
 
 When alone, Mildred turned her face to the wall and 
 breathed, like the lowest and saddest note of a wind-touched 
 harp, "Vinton, Vinton Arnold, farewell forever. I must 
 look for you no more I must think of you no more. Oh, 
 perverse heart, be still !" 
 
 But a decision had been reached, and her perplexed mind 
 had at last found the rest of a fixed resolve. Then nature 
 asserted her right, and she slept long and heavily. When 
 she awoke, the lamp was lighted in the one living-room, 
 from which came the sounds of an unsteady step and a thick, 
 rough voice. She trembled, for she knew that her father had 
 come home again intoxicated an event that was becoming 
 terribly frequent of late. She felt too weak and nerveless to 
 go out and look upon their living disgrace, and lay still with 
 long, sighing breaths. " Even Mr. Atwood will turn from 
 us in disgust, when he realizes papa's degradation," she 
 thought " Alas ! can it be right to cloud his bright young 
 life with such a shameful stain ! Oh, if it were not selfish, I 
 could wish to die and escape from it all. ' ' 
 
 At last the heavy, shuffling step passed into the adjoining 
 bedroom, and soon the wretched man was in stupor. As 
 Mildred came out she saw Belle, who had returned from her 
 work, looking toward the room in which her iather slept, with 
 a lowering, reckless expression that made her sister shudder. 
 
 Mildred tried to banish evil thoughts by putting her arm 
 around the young girl's neck and kissing her between the 
 eyes. " Don't look so, Belle," she whispered. 
 
 " Where is that to end ?" Belle asked, in a strange, harsh 
 voice, pointing toward the room. " Millie, I can't stand 
 this life much longer."
 
 39^ WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Belle, don' t forget there is a heaven beyond this 
 life." 
 
 " It's too far beyond. Look here, Millie ; since God 
 don't answer mamma's prayers, I haven't much faith in any 
 thing. See what undeserved trouble came upon you too. 
 If it hadn' t been for Roger you would have been in prison 
 to-night, and we'd have been alone here with a drunken 
 father. How can one have faith and try to be good when 
 such things happen ?" 
 
 "Belle," said Mildred, with a solemnity that made the 
 reckless, discouraged girl turn pale, " you had better take 
 a knife from that table and stab mamma than do anything 
 wrong. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, hush !" whispered Belle, for Mrs. Jocelyn now en 
 tered with the children, whom she was glad to have away 
 when the unnatural father returned, even though she knew 
 they were with the wild young Arabs of the tenement.
 
 A WOMAN'S HEART. 399 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 A WOMAN'S HEART. 
 
 MRS. JOCELYN and her daughters were silent and 
 depressed during their meagre supper, for they never 
 could become accustomed to the terrible skeleton in their 
 household. When Mr. Jocelyn confined himself solely to 
 opium he was not so revolting, but common, beastly intoxi 
 cation was unendurable. They felt that it was brutalizing 
 his very soul, and becoming a millstone around their necks 
 which must drag them down to some unknown abyss of in 
 famy. Mechanically they went through the motions of eat 
 ing, the mother and daughters forcing down the little food 
 they could afford, and the children ravenously devouring all 
 that was given to them. As Mildred saw the mother trying 
 to slip unnoticed her almost untasted supper from her plate 
 to Fred's, she laid a hand upon her arm and said, 
 
 " No, mamma ; remember you are to live," she added in 
 a low whisper, and the poor creature tried to smile and was 
 submissive. 
 
 With a pathetic maintenance of their old-time habits, they 
 had scarcely cleared away the supper-table., put the children to 
 rest, and made the poor little place as neat and inviting as 
 possible, when Mr. Wentworth appeared, followed by Roger. 
 Mildred had been expecting the latter with trepidation, Belle 
 with impatieMce ; and the hard, lowering look on the face of 
 the young girl gave way to one of welcome and pleasure, for 
 if Belle's good moods were apt to be transient, so were her 
 evil ones, and the hearty, healthy spirits of the young fellow
 
 40 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 were contagious. Mildred was greatly relieved to see Mr. 
 Wentworth, for while she had fully resolved to yield to 
 Roger's suit, her heart, despite her will, welcomed delay. 
 She was also glad that her pastor was present, for she could 
 now show her strong gratitude without fear of immediate and 
 embarrassing results. She was therefore more prompt even 
 than Belle, and, taking the young man's hand in both of her 
 own, she said, with tears in her eyes, 
 
 " Why didn't you let me thank you this morning? My 
 gratitude has been growing every moment, and you must 
 take it all or I shall sink under it. Mr. Wentworth, I should 
 have been in some horrible prison to-night, with my heart 
 breaking from sorrow and shame, if it were not for this kind, 
 generous friend, Mr. Atwood. I long cherished an un 
 reasoning prejudice against you, and showed it openly. 
 You have taken a strange revenge. No Southern gentleman 
 could have acted more nobly, and a Southern girl could not 
 use stronger praise than that." 
 
 Roger's hand, usually so strong and steady, trembled. 
 These words, warm from the heart of the girl who had 
 hitherto been so distant and unapproachable, almost took 
 away his breath. ' ' Please don' t, " he faltered. ' ' Such 
 gratitude such words from you oppress me. I don't 
 deserve such thanks. Any decent man would have been 
 glad to save one who was so good and so wronged, and I 
 shall always regard it as the luckiest event of my life that I 
 happened to be the one to aid you. Oh, you don' t know, 
 you never can know what immense good-fortune it was. ' ' 
 Then, as if fearing he might lose his self-control, he broke 
 hastily away to greet Mrs. Jocelyn, but Belle caught him with 
 the impulse of the warm-hearted sister she had become, and 
 throwing her arm around his neck exclaimed, "I'm going 
 to pay you with the best coin I have. ' ' And she kissed him 
 again and again.
 
 A WOMAN ' S HE A KT. 401 
 
 " Dh, Jupiter !" gasped the blushing youth. " Bless that 
 floor-walker and all his deviltry ! I shall let him off just a 
 little for this." 
 
 " No, don't. I'll give you another kiss if you'll get even 
 with him, " Belle whispered. 
 
 " It's a bargain," he said in her ear, and Belle ratified the 
 compact immediately. 
 
 ' ' Oh, ' ' thought Mildred, in the depths of her heart, ' ' if 
 it were only Belle instead of me !" 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn' s greeting was scarcely less demonstrative than 
 Belle' s, but there was a motherly tenderness in it that brought 
 tears into the young fellow's eyes. " Blessings on you, my 
 dear good boy," she murmured, " and a mother's blessing 
 will do you no harm." 
 
 " Look here," said Roger brusquely, " if you don't let 
 up on a fellow I shall make a confounded fool of myself. ' ' 
 And his lip quivered as if he were a boy in truth. 
 
 Mr. Wentworth, who in their strong feeling had been quite 
 ignored, at first looked on with smiling sympathy. Mildred 
 had given him the hand that Roger released, and holding it 
 in a warm clasp he did not speak at first, but watched a 
 scene that had for him the attractions of a real drama. He 
 now did not help Roger much by saying, in his hearty way, 
 " That's right ; lay it on strong ; he deserves all, and more. 
 Miss Mildred, I have been yellow with envy for the last two 
 hours because I was absent. I would have eulogized you so 
 in court that the judge would have addressed you as Saint Mil 
 dred, and yet it's but honest to say that you would have gone 
 to jail like many a saint before you had not Roger got hold 
 of the facts which enabled the judge to prove you innocent. 
 The law is awfully matter-of-fact, and that lace on your per 
 son had to be accounted for." 
 
 " Yes, yes," cried Belle, " tell us everything. We've 
 been dying with curiosity all day, and you've been so mys-
 
 402 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 terious and important, and have put on such airs, that you 
 quite awed me. Seems to me that for a country boy you are 
 blossoming fast." 
 
 1 ' It isn' t necessary for a country boy to be a fool, espe 
 cially when he has eyes, ' ' replied Roger in an off-hand way. 
 " It's all simple enough. I happened to be passing the store 
 where Miss Mildred " 
 
 ' ' Happened to be passing ! How often did you happen 
 to pass ?" Belle interrupted, with a face full of mischief. 
 
 " You are not a judge, ma'am, and so can't cross-ques 
 tion, ' ' he answered, with a quick blush but a defiant little 
 nod, ' ' and if you were, no one is obliged to incriminate 
 himself. I was merely passing, and the movements of that 
 scamp, Bissel, slightly awakened my curiosity, and I followed 
 him and the girl. I was exceedingly fortunate, and saw 
 enough to enable the judge to draw from the girl the whole 
 story. Now you see what a simple, prosaic part I played. 
 Miss Jocelyn, in keeping up so bravely through scenes and 
 experiences that were perfectly horrible to her, is the heroine 
 of the piece. By Jove ! beg your pardon, Mr. Wentworth 
 it was as good as a play to see how she looked her inno 
 cence into the heart and mind of the judge. I saw the judi 
 cial frost in his eyes melting like two icicles on the south side 
 of a barn. Oh, the judge could see as far into a millstone 
 as the next man," he continued, laughing, as if he relished 
 the memory hugely. " After those horrid old hags were 
 sent aiong so fast to where they belonged, he looked when 
 Miss Jocelyn appeared as if a whole picture gallery were 
 before him. He could keep up his official regulation man 
 ner, but his eyes paid a certain prisoner many compliments." 
 
 ' ' Roger, you' ve got the eyes of a lynx, ' ' said Belle, and 
 Mildred was human enpugh tp show the pleasure she felt at 
 his words. 
 
 " Nonsense," replied the young fellow in sudden con-
 
 A WO MA N ' S HE A XT. 43 
 
 fusion. "Any one who has learned to hunt well gets a 
 
 ^'ThTjudge's eyes at least were not at all to blame," 
 added Mr Wentworth, laughing, and looking at Mildred s 
 kindly and admiringly that the color which was stealing into 
 her face deepened rapidly. " Well, to come down to busi 
 ness Roger and I have been to see your employers, and 
 we talked to them rather strongly. While they insist that 
 they were misled and not to blame, they felt remorseful and 
 we struck while they were in their regretful mood. Thej 
 give you a week's vacation, and send you twenty-five dollars 
 as a small compensation for what you have suffered. 
 ' I don't want it," cried Mildred indignantly. 
 "Oh yes you do; besides it's only spoiling the 
 tines They had already discharged that scoundrel Bissel, 
 and ihey intend prosecuting the girl. They apologize t 
 you and promise to raise your wages, but I think I can 
 obtain enough sewing and fancy work to render ,t unneces 
 sary for you to go back unless you prefer it. I don t .an 
 to think of your being subjected to that barbarous rule of 
 Ending any longer. I know of a lady on Fifth Avenue 
 To is a hosl if she once becomes interested in any one, and 
 through her I think I can enlist enough people to keep you 
 busy I feel sure she will be our ally when she knows 
 11 " 
 
 'Oh if I could only stay with mamma and work at home, 
 I should be so glad," was the young girl's response. 
 
 ' Well I must have one promise first, and your conscience 
 should lead you to make it honestly. You must give me 
 our word that you will not shut yourself up from light, air 
 Ld recreation. You must take a walk every day , yo 
 must go out with your sister and Roger, and have a go, 
 Snc a? often as possible. If I find you sewing and mop, ng 
 here all the time, I shall feel hurt and despondent.
 
 44 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Millie, the laws of health are just as much God's laws as the 
 Ten Commandments.'' 
 
 " I feel you are right," she faltered. Then she covered 
 her face with her hands and sobbed, " But papa, papa. 
 Mr, Wentworth, since all know it now, you must know 
 the truth that is worse than death to us. I feel as if I wanted 
 to hide where no one could ever see me again ; I fear we 
 do Mr. Atwood a wrong in permitting him to be so friendly. ' ' 
 
 Roger towered up until he " looked six feet six," as Belle 
 remarked afterward, and, coming straight to the speaker, he 
 took her hand and said, " Miss Jocelyn, when I'm ashamed 
 to be seen with you and Belle, I' 11 strike hands with Bissel in 
 the sneak-thieving line. I ask for no prouder distinction 
 than to be trusted by your mother and by you. ' ' 
 
 "Roger has settled that question, and shown himself a 
 sensible fellow, ' ' resumed Mr. Wentworth, with an emphatic 
 and approving nod. " Since you have spoken of a subject 
 so deeply painful, I will speak plainly too. There are plenty 
 of people, I admit, who treat the families of wrong-doers as 
 if their unspeakable misfortune were their fault ; and in a 
 certain sense this tendency is wholesome, for it has a great 
 restraining influence on those tempted to give way to evil. 
 But this tendency should not be carried to cruel lengths by 
 any one, and there are those who are sufficiently just to dis 
 criminate and feel the deepest sympathy as I do. While it 
 would be in bad taste for you and Miss Belle to ignore this 
 trouble, and flaunt gayly in public places, it would be pos 
 itively wicked to let your trouble crush out health, life, and 
 hope. You are both young, and you are sacredly bound to 
 make the best and the most of the existence that God has 
 bestowed upon you. You have as good a right to pure air 
 and sunshine as I have, and as good a right to respect while 
 you maintain your present character. It would do your 
 father no good, it would break your mother's heart, if you
 
 A WOMAN ' S HEAR T. 405 
 
 followed your morbid impulses. It would only add to your 
 father's remorse. I fear his craving for the poisons that are 
 destroying him has become a disease, and that it is morally 
 impossible for him to refrain. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Do you think would it be possible to put him into an 
 institution," Mildred faltered. 
 
 " Well, it would be expensive, and yet if he will go to one 
 and make an honest effort to be cured, perhaps the money 
 might be raised." 
 
 "Oh," cried Mildred, "we'd starve almost, we'd work 
 night and day to give him a chance. ' ' 
 
 " The money shall be raised," said Roger quietly. " I've 
 saved nearly all my wages, and " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Atwood," burst out Mildred impetuously, 
 " this would be far better than saving me from prison. I 
 would pay you back every penny if I toiled all my life, and 
 if papa could be his old self once more we would soon regain 
 all that we have lost." Then a sudden passion of sobs 
 shook her slight form. "Oh," she gasped brokenly, "I 
 could die I could suffer anything to save papa. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Mr. Wentworth, ' ' said the wife, with a look in her large 
 tearless blue eyes which they never forgot, ' ' we will live in 
 one room, we'll spend only enough for bare existence, if 
 you'll help us in this matter." Then putting her arms 
 around Roger's neck she buried her face on his breast and 
 murmured, " You are like a son to me, and all there is left 
 of my poor crushed heart clings to you. If I could see 
 Martin the man he was, I could die in peace." 
 
 " He shall have the chance of the best and richest," said 
 Roger brokenly. " I ask nothing better than to have a 
 hand in saving such a man as Mr. Jocelyn must have been." 
 
 Then was Roger's hour and opportunity, and he might at 
 that time have bound Mildred to him by vows that the girl 
 would sooner perish than break. Indeed in her abounding
 
 46 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 gratitude, and with every generous, unselfish chord in her 
 soul vibrating, even his eyes could have been deceived, and 
 he might easily have believed that he had won her heart. But 
 there was neither policy nor calculation in his young enthusi 
 asm. His love truly prompted his heart, but it was a heart 
 abounding in good, unselfish impulses, if sufficient occasion 
 called them forth. He loved Mrs. Jocelyn and Belle scarcely 
 less than his own mother and sister, and yet with a different 
 affection, a more ideal regard. They appealed to his imagi 
 nation ; their misfortunes made them sacred in his eyes, and 
 aroused all the knightly instincts which slumber in every 
 young, unperverted man. Chief of all, they belonged to Mil 
 dred, the girl who had awakened his manhood, and to whom 
 he had felt, even when she was so cold and prejudiced, that 
 he owed his larger life and his power to win a place among 
 men. Now that she was so kind, now that she was willing 
 to be aided by him in her dearest hopes, he exulted, and life 
 grew rich in tasks for which the reward seemed boundless. 
 The hope would come to him, as Mildred rose to say good- 
 by with a look that he had never seen on any human face 
 before, that she might soon give him something warmer and 
 better than gratitude ; but if she could not soon, he would 
 wait, and if she never could return his love, he proposed to 
 be none the less loyal as a friend. 
 
 Indeed the young girl's expression puzzled him. The 
 old pride was all gone, and she gave him the impression of 
 one who is conquered and defenceless, and who is ready to 
 yield anything, everything to the victor. And this ill-defined 
 impression was singularly true, for she was in a passion of 
 self-sacrifice. She felt that one who had been so generous 
 and self -forgetful had a right to all that a true man could 
 ask, and that it would be base in her to refuse. The greater 
 the sacrifice the more gladly she would make it, in order that 
 he too might prove that a Southern girl could not be sur-
 
 A WOMAN'S HEART. 4 7 
 
 passed in noblesse oblige by a Northern man. She was in one 
 of those supreme moods in which men and women are swayed 
 by one dominant impulse, and all other considerations be 
 come insignificant. The fact that those she loved were look 
 ing on was no restraint upon her feeling, and the sympa 
 thizing presence of the clergyman added to it. Indeed her 
 emotion was almost religious. The man who had saved her 
 from prison and from shame far more : the man who was 
 ready to give all he had to rescue her fallen father was be 
 fore her, and without a second's hesitation she would have 
 gone into a torture-chamber for the sake of this generous 
 friend. She wanted him to see his absolute power. 
 She wanted him to know that he had carried her preju 
 dice, her dislike by storm, and had won the right to dic 
 tate his terms. Because she did not love him she was so 
 frank in her abandon. If he had held her heart's love 
 she would have been shy, were she under tenfold greater 
 obligations. She did not mean to be unmaidenly she 
 was not so, for her unconscious delicacy saved her but 
 she was at his feet as truly as the ' ' devotee' ' is prostrate and 
 helpless before the car of Juggernaut. But Roger was no 
 grim idol, and he was too inexperienced, too modest to un 
 derstand her. As he held her throbbing palm he looked a 
 little wonderingly into her flushed face and tear-gemmed 
 eyes that acknowledged him lord and master without reserve ; 
 then he smiled and said in a low, half-humorous tone, " I 
 sha'n't be an ogre to you you won't be afraid of me any 
 longer, Miss Mildred ?" 
 
 " No," she replied impetuously ; " you are the truest and 
 best friend a woman ever had. Oh, I know it I know it 
 now. After what you said about papa, I should despise 
 myself if I did not know it. ' ' 
 
 She saw all his deep, long-repressed passion leap into his 
 face and eyes, and in spite of herself she recoiled from it as
 
 4<-8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 from a blow. Ah, Mildred, your will is strong, your grati 
 tude is boundless, your generous enthusiasm had swept you 
 away like a tide, but your woman's heart is stronger and 
 greater than all, and he has seen this truth unmistakably. 
 The passion died out of his face like a flame that sinks down 
 to the hidden, smouldering fire that produced it. He gave 
 her hand a strong pressure as he said quietly, " I am indeed 
 your friend never doubt it;" then he turned away de 
 cidedly, and although his leave-taking from Mrs. Jocelyn 
 and Belle was affectionate, they felt rather than saw there was 
 an inward struggle for self-mastery, which made him, while 
 quiet in manner, anxious to get away. 
 
 Mr. Wentworth, who had been talking with Mrs. Jocelyn, 
 observed nothing of all this, and took his leave with assur 
 ances that they would see him soon again. 
 
 Mildred stood irresolute, full of bitter self-reproach. She 
 took an impulsive step toward the door to call Roger back, 
 but, checking herself, said despairingly, " I can deceive 
 neither him nor myself. Oh, mamma, it is of no use." 
 And indeed she felt that it would be impossible to carry out 
 the scheme that promised so much for those she loved. As 
 the lightning flash eclipses the sun at noonday, so all of her 
 gratitude and self-sacrificial enthusiasm now seemed but pale 
 sickly sentiment before that vivid flame of honest love that 
 divine fire which consumes at touch every motive save the one 
 for the sacred union of two lives. 
 
 " I wish I could see such a man as Roger Atwood look at 
 me as he looked at you, " said Belle indignantly. " I would 
 not send him away with a heartache. 
 
 " Would to Heaven it had been you, Belle !" replied 
 Mildred dejectedly. " I can't help it I'm made so, and 
 none will know it better than he." 
 
 " Don't feel that way," remonstrated Mrs. Jocelyn ; 
 " time and the thought of what Roger can do for us will
 
 A WOMAN'S HEART. 
 
 work great changes. You have years before you. If he 
 will help us save your father " 
 
 " Oh, mamma, I could shed for him all the blood left in 
 my body. ' ' 
 
 " Nonsense !" cried the matter-of-fact Belle. " He doesn't 
 wunt your blood ; he only wants a sensible girl who will 
 love him as he deserves, and who will help him to help us 
 all/' 
 
 Mildred made a despairing gesture and went to her room. 
 She soon reappeared with a quilt and a pillow, and placing 
 them on the floor beside the low bed in which the children 
 slept, said, " I'll stay here, and you take my place with 
 Belie, mamma. No," she added resolutely, as her mother 
 began to remonstrate ; " what I resolve upon I intend to do 
 hereafter, even to the least thing. You shall not go near the 
 room where papa is to-night." 
 
 Throughout the evening, while love, duty, and generous 
 sympathy planned for his redemption ; throughout the long 
 night, while the sad-hearted wife prayed for success in their 
 efforts, the husband and father lay shrouded in the heavy, 
 rayless darkness of a drunken stupor.
 
 A10 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 STRONG TEMPTATION. 
 
 J TT 7"ELL, I must admit that I have rarely been so 
 VV touched and interested before," said Mr. Went- 
 worth, as he and Roger walked homeward together ; ' ' and 
 that is saying much, for my calling brings human life before 
 me in almost every aspect. Mildred Jocelyn is an unusual 
 girl. Until to-day I thought her a trifle cold, and even in 
 capable of very deep feeling. I thought pride not a com 
 mon pride, you know, but the traditional and proverbial 
 pride of a Southern woman her chief characteristic, but the 
 girl was fairly volcanic with feeling to-night. I believe she 
 would starve in very truth to save her father, though of 
 course we won't permit any such folly as they are meditat 
 ing, and I do not believe there is any sacrifice, not involving 
 evil, at which she would hesitate. She's a jewel, Atwood, 
 and in winning her, as you will, you will obtain a girl for 
 whom a prince might well sue. She's one of a thousand, 
 and beneath all her wonted self-control and reserve she has 
 as true and passionate a heart as ever beat in a woman's 
 breast. ' ' 
 
 " Good-night," said Roger, a little abruptly. " I agree 
 with all you can say in regard to Miss Jocelyn' s nobility, 
 and I shall not fail her, nor shall I make bargains or condi 
 tions in my loyalty. The privilege of serving such a woman 
 is enough. I will see you again soon," and he walked 
 rapidly down the street on which his uncle resided.
 
 S THONG TEMPTATION. 4" 
 
 Roger and Mr. Wentworth had become very good friends, 
 and the latter had been of much service to the young fellow 
 by guiding him in his reading and study. The clergyman 
 had shown his usual tact in dealing with Roger. Never once 
 had he lectured or talked religion at him, but he preached in 
 terestingly, and out of the pulpit was the genial, natural, hearty 
 man that wins the respect and good-will of all. His inter 
 views with Roger were free from the faintest trace of religious 
 affectation, and he showed that friendly appreciation and spirit 
 of comradeship which young men like. Roger felt that he was 
 not dealing with an ecclesiastic, but with a man who was as 
 honest, earnest, and successful in his way as he ever hoped 
 to be in his. He was therefore being drawn by motives that 
 best accorded with his disposition toward the Christian faith 
 by a thorough respect for it, by seeing its practical value 
 as worked out in the useful busy life of one who made his 
 chapel a fruitful oasis in what would otherwise have been a 
 moral desert In his genuine humanity and downright hon 
 esty, in his care of people's bodies as well as souls, and tem 
 poral as well as spiritual interests, the minister was a tower of 
 strength, and his influence for good over the ambitious 
 youth, now fast developing the character which would make 
 or mar him for life, was most excellent. While Roger spoke 
 freely to him of his general hopes and plans, and gave to 
 him more confidence than to any one else, there was one 
 thing that, so far as words were concerned, he hid from all 
 the world his love for Mildred. The sagacious clergyman, 
 however, at last guessed the truth, but until to-night never 
 made any reference to it. He now smiled to think that the 
 sad-hearted Jocelyns might eventually find in Roger a cure 
 for most of their troubles, since he hoped that Mr. Jocelyn, 
 if treated scientifically, might be restored to manhood. 
 
 Mr. Ezra Atwood, Roger's uncle, sat in his small parlor 
 far beyond his usual hour for retiring, and occasionally he
 
 4 I8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 paced the floor so impatiently as to show that his mind was 
 deeply perturbed. While his nephew had studied books he 
 had studied his nephew, and in the process the fossilization of 
 his heart had been arrested, and the strong, steady youth had 
 suggested hopes of something like a filial relation to the child 
 less man. At first he had growled to himself, " If the boy 
 were only mine I'd make a man of him," and then gradually 
 the idea of adopting and making a man of him, had present 
 ed itself and slowly gained full possession of his mind. 
 Roger was capable, persevering, and tremendously ambitious 
 qualities that were after the old man's heart, and, after 
 maintaining his shrewd furtive observation for months, he at 
 last muttered to himself, " I'll do it, for he's got the Atwood 
 grit and grip, and more brains than any of us. His father is 
 shrewd and obstinate enough, but he's narrow, and hasn't 
 breadth of mind to do more than pinch and save what he 
 can scratch out of that stony farm of his. I'm narrow, too. 
 I can turn an honest penny in my line with the sharpest in 
 the market, and I'm content ; but this young fellow is a 
 new departure in the family, and if given a chance and kept 
 from all nonsense he can climb to the top notch. There's 
 no telling how high a lawyer can get in this country if he has 
 plenty of brains and a ready tongue. ' ' 
 
 Thus the old man's dominant trait, ambition, which he 
 had satisfied in becoming known as one of the most solid 
 and wealthy men of his calling, found in his nephew a new 
 sphere of development. In return for the great favors which 
 he proposed to confer, however, he felt that Roger should 
 gratefully accept his wishes as absolute law. With the ego 
 tism and confidence of many successful yet narrow men, he 
 believed himself perfectly capable of guiding the young 
 fellow's career in all respects, and had little expectation of 
 any fortunate issue unless he did direct in all essential and
 
 STRONG TEMPTATION. 413 
 
 practical matters. Mr. Atwood worshipped common-sense 
 and the shrewd individuality of character which separates 
 a man from his fellows, and enables him to wrap himself in 
 his own interests and pursuits without babbling to others or 
 being impeded by them. Influenced by his wife, he was 
 kind to the poor, and charitable in a certain methodical way, 
 but boasted to her that in his limited circle he had no 
 " hangers-on," as he termed them. He had an instinctive 
 antipathy to a class that he called ' ' ne' er-do-weels, " have- 
 beens," and " unlucky devils," and if their misfortunes and 
 lack of thrift resulted from causes like those destroying Mr, 
 Jocelyn he was sternly and contemptuously implacable tow 
 ard them. He was vexed that Roger should have bothered 
 himself with the sick man he had discovered on shipboard 
 the day before Christmas. " It was no affair of his," he had 
 grumbled ; but as the young fellow had been steady as a 
 clock in his business and studies after Mr. Jocelyn had re 
 covered, he had given no further thought to these friends, 
 nor had it occurred to him that they were more than passing 
 acquaintances. But a letter from Roger's father, who had 
 heard of Mr. Jocelyn' s condition and of his son's intimacy 
 with the family, awakened the conservative uncle's suspi 
 cions, and that very afternoon the well-meaning but garru 
 lous Mrs. Wheaton had told his wife all about what she re 
 garded as brilliant performances on the part of Roger at the 
 police court. Mrs. Atwood was a kind-hearted woman, but 
 she had much of her husband's horror of people who were 
 not respectable after her strict ideal, and she felt that she 
 ought to warn him that Roger's friends were not altogethel 
 desirable. Of course she was glad that Roger had been able 
 to show that the young girl was innocent, but shop-girls liv 
 ing in low tenements with a drunken father were not fit com 
 panions for their nephew and possible heir. Her husband 
 indorsed her views with the whole force of his strong, un-
 
 4 T 4 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 sympathetic, and ambitious nature, and was now awaiting 
 Roger with the purpose of "putting an end to such non 
 sense at once. ' ' The young man therefore was surprised to 
 find, as he entered the hallway, that his uncle was up at an 
 hour late for him. 
 
 " I wish to see you," was the prompt, brief greeting from 
 Mr. Atwood, who was uneasily tramping up and down the 
 small stiff parlor, which was so rarely used that it might 
 almost have been dispensed with as a part of the residence. 
 Roger came forward with some anxiety, for his uncle lowered 
 at him like a thunder-cloud. 
 
 ' ' Sit there, where I can see your face, ' ' was the next curt 
 direction. There was neither guilt nor fear in the frank 
 countenance that was turned full upon him. "I'm a man of 
 few words," he resumed more kindly, for. Roger's expres 
 sion disarmed him somewhat. " Surely," he thought, 
 ' ' when the boy gets a hint of what I can do for him, he' 11 
 not be the fool to tangle himself up with people like the 
 Jocelyns. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Where have you been to-night ?' ' he asked bluntly. 
 Roger told him. " Where were you last night and this 
 morning ?' ' Roger briefly narrated the whole story, con 
 cluding, " It's the first time I've been late to business, sir." 
 
 The old man listened grimly, without interruption, and then 
 said, " Of course I'm glad you got the girl off, but it's bad 
 management to get mixed up in such scrapes. Perhaps a 
 little insight into court-room scenes will do you no harm 
 since you are to be a lawyer. Now that the affair is over, 
 however, I wish you to drop these Jocelyns. They are of 
 no advantage to you, and they belong to a class that is ex 
 ceedingly disagreeable to me. I suppose you know what 
 kind of a man Mr. Jocelyn is ?' ' 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but you do not know what kind of a woman 
 Mrs. Jocelyn is. She is^~"
 
 STRONG TEMPTATION, 41$ 
 
 " She is Jocelyn's wife, isn't she ?" 
 
 " Certainly; but " 
 
 " And the girl is his daughter. They live in a dowdy 
 tenement, and are as poor as crows. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Misfortune and the wrong of others might make all this 
 true of us, ' ' began the youth impetuously ; ' ' and yet if old 
 friends should turn their backs ' ' 
 
 " You are not an old friend," his uncle again interrupted, 
 in his hard, business-like tones. ' ' They are merely acci 
 dental acquaintances, who happened to board at your father's 
 house last summer. They haven' t the ghost of a claim upon 
 you. It looks far more as if you were in love with the girl, 
 and were making a romantic fool of yourself. ' ' 
 
 Roger's face grew very white, but he controlled himself, 
 and asked, " Uncle, have I ever treated you with dis 
 respect ?' ' 
 
 " Certainly not ; why should you ?" 
 
 ' ' With some right I may also ask why you treat me with 
 such disrespect ?' ' 
 
 The old man opened his eyes, and was somewhat taken 
 aback by this unexpected question, and yet a moment's re 
 flection showed him that he had given cause for it He 
 also misunderstood his nephew, and resumed, with a short 
 conciliatory laugh, " I guess I'm the fool, to be imagining 
 all this nonsense. Of course you are too much of an At- 
 wood to entangle yourself with such people and spoil your 
 prospects for life. Look here, Roger. I'll be frank with 
 you, and then we'll understand each other. You know I've 
 neither chick nor child, and I've turned a good big penny 
 in business. When you first came I thought you were a 
 rattle-pated country boy that wanted a lark in the city, and I 
 took you more to keep you out of mischief than for any 
 other cause. Well, I've watched you closely, and I was mis 
 taken. You've got the stuff in you to make a man, and I
 
 416 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 see no reason why you should not be at the top of the heap 
 before you reach my years, and I mean to give you a chance. 
 You've got a little soft place in your head and heart, or you 
 wouldn't be getting yourself mixed up in other people's 
 troubles. I tell you what it is, my boy, a man who gets 
 ahead in these times must strike right out for himself, and 
 steer clear of all fouling with ' ne'er-do-weels,' as if they had 
 a pestilence. Hook on to the lucky ones, the strong ones, 
 and they'll help you along. Now if you'll take this course 
 and follow my advice right along, I' 11 give you a chance with 
 the first. You shall go to the best college in the land, next 
 to the law-school, and then have money enough to enable 
 you to strike high. By the time you are thirty you can marry 
 an heiress. But no more Jocelyns and shop-girls who have 
 been at station-houses, if you please. The girl may have 
 been innocent of that offence ; but, plain man as I am, I 
 don't like this style of people at all, and I know human 
 nature well enough to be sure that they'll try to tie them 
 selves on to you if they can. I've thought it all out in my 
 slow way, and, since you've got it in you, I'm going to give 
 you a chance to put the Atwood name where I can' t, with all 
 my money." 
 
 Roger was deeply moved, for he had no idea that his uncle 
 was cherishing such far-reaching plans in his behalf. While 
 he had little sympathy with the cold, selfish side of the pro 
 gramme, his strong ambition responded powerfully to the 
 prospect held out to him. He knew that the hopes inspired 
 were not vain, for his uncle was a man whose deeds always 
 outstripped his words, and that his fortunes were practically 
 assured if he would follow the worldly-wise policy to which 
 he had listened. His ambition whispered, '' Mildred Joce- 
 lyn does not love you, and never will. Even now, after you 
 have done so much for her, and her gratitude is boundless, 
 her heart shrinks from you. She may not be able to help it,
 
 STRONG TEMPTATION-. 417 
 
 but it is true nevertheless. Why should you throw away 
 such prospects for the sake of one who loves another man, 
 and who, until in a time of desperate need, treated you with 
 undisguised coldness and dislike ? Besides, by yielding to 
 your uncle's will you can eventually do more for the family 
 than if thrown on your own resources. ' ' It was indeed the 
 great temptation of his life, and he wavered. 
 
 " Uncle," he said irresolutely, " you have indeed opened 
 a very alluring prospect, and I am grateful that you think so 
 well of me, and that you are willing to do so much. Since 
 you have been so frank with me, I will be equally so with 
 you, ' ' and he told him all about his relations with the Joce- 
 lyns, and tried to make the shrewd old merchant understand 
 that they were not common people. 
 
 " They are the most dangerous people of all," he inter 
 rupted impatiently. " Having once been up in the world, 
 they think they are still as good as anybody, and are wild to 
 regain their old position. If they had always been poor and 
 commonplace, they would not be so likely to presume. 
 What you say about the girl's not caring for you is sheer 
 nonsense. She' d marry you to-morrow if she could. The 
 one idea of such people is to get out of the slough into 
 which they have fallen, and they'll marry out of it the first 
 chance they get, and like enough they' 11 do worse if they 
 can' t marry. I tell you they are the most dangerous kind 
 of people, and Southern at that. I've learned all about 
 them ; the father has gone to the devil for good and all, and, 
 with your feeling and weakness toward them, you'll never be 
 safe a moment unless you drop them completely and finally. 
 Come, young man, let this affair be the test between us. 
 I've worked hard for nearly a life-time, and have a right to 
 impose some conditions with what has been earned by forty 
 years of toil, early and late. I never speculated once. 
 Every dollar I had to spare I put in paying real estate and
 
 41 8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 governments, and, Roger, I'm worth to-day a good half 
 a million. Ha, ha, ha 1 people who look at the plain old 
 man in the plain little house don't know that he could afford 
 a mansion on the Avenue better than most of them. This is 
 between ourselves, but I want you to act with your eyes 
 open. If you are such a soft-headed fool as to let that girl, 
 who you admit does not like you or care a rap for you per 
 sonally, stand between you and such prospects, then I'm 
 mistaken in you, and the sooner I find it out the better. 
 Come, now, I'll be good-natured and liberal in the matter, 
 for young men will be a little addle-pated and romantic be 
 fore they cut their wisdom teeth. Through that English 
 woman who works for your aunt occasionally you can see 
 to it that these people don' t suffer, but beyond that you must 
 drop them once for all. What is more, your father and 
 mother take the same view that I do, and your filial duty to 
 them requires what I ask. While we naturally refuse to be 
 mixed up with such people, we are seeking chiefly to pro 
 mote your welfare ; for the worst thing that can happen to a 
 young man starting in life is to have a helpless lot of people 
 hanging on to him. So, come, give me your promise the 
 promise of an Atwood and it will be all right. ' ' 
 
 Roger was not a self-sacrificing saint by any means. 
 Moreover, he had inherited the Atwood characteristics suffi 
 ciently to feel all the worldly force of his uncle's reasoning, 
 and to be tempted tremendously by his offers. They 
 promised to realize his wildest dreams, and to make the 
 path to fame and wealth a broad, easy track instead of a long, 
 steep, thorny path, as he had expected. He was virtually on 
 the mountain-top, and had been shown " all the kingdoms of 
 the world and the glory of them. ' ' 
 
 But against this brilliant background he saw the thin, pale 
 face of Mrs. Jocelyn, as she looked up to him with loving 
 trust and gratitude, and the motherly kiss that she had im-
 
 STRONG TEMPTATION. 4*9 
 
 printed on his cheek was a seal to her absolute faith. He 
 felt the pressure of Belle's arm about his neck, and remem 
 bered his promise to give her a brother's regard and protec 
 tion, and justly he feared that if deserted now the impulsive, 
 tempted girl would soon meet shipwreck. She would lose 
 faith in God and man. But that which touched him most 
 nearly were his words to Mildred words spoken even when 
 she showed him most plainly that her heart was not his, and 
 probably never could be " I am your friend ; never doubt 
 it. ' ' How false he would seem to them ; how false and 
 selfish to his friend, the great-hearted clergyman, who was 
 like Christ himself in his devoted labors ; how false and 
 base he would ever feel himself to be in his own soul ! 
 
 For a time there was a terrible conflict in his breast as he 
 paced the floor in long strides, with hands clenched and 
 brow heavily contracted. His uncle watched him curiously 
 and with displeased surprise, for that he could hesitate at all 
 seemed to the worldly man an evidence of fatal weakness. 
 
 Roger fought it out like a genuine Atwood, and was 
 nearer akin to his uncle than the old merchant would ever 
 suspect. His heart craved the kingdoms of the world un 
 speakably, but he now realized that he must barter for them 
 his honor, his manhood, and love. Thus far he had a right 
 to love Mildred, and it was not her fault she could not return 
 it. But, poor and shamed as she was, he knew that she 
 would despise him if he yielded now, even though he rose to 
 be the foremost man of the nation. Not with any chivalric, 
 uncalculating impulse did he reach his conclusion, but by 
 the slow, deliberate reasoning of a cool-headed, sturdy race 
 that would hold to a course with life-long tenacity, having 
 once chosen it. 
 
 Turning to his uncle, he asked quietly, ' ' What did you 
 mean by ' the promise of an Atwood ' ?" 
 
 You ought to know. Our family, for generations, have
 
 420 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 lived up among the granite hills of Forestville, and, although 
 poor, our promises, whether spoken or written, are like 
 them. ' ' 
 
 "I'm glad to hear you say that I'm glad to be reminded 
 of it," his nephew replied. "Well, my promise has already 
 been given. I have promised that poor broken-hearted woman, 
 Mrs. Jocelyn, that I'd try to help her through her terrible mis 
 fortunes. I've promised her daughter Belle that I'd give her 
 a brother's care and affection. I've promised the girl I love 
 that I would at least be her friend, since I cannot be more. 
 I'll prove myself a true Atwood, worthy to sustain the family 
 name and honor by keeping my promises, and if I break 
 them, you yourself, deep in your heart, would despise me.'' 
 
 For a moment the old merchant was nonplussed, so 
 adroitly and unexpectedly had Roger turned his words against 
 him. Then, like most men suddenly put in a false position, 
 he grew angry, and blurted out, " Nonsense ! It doesn't ap 
 ply at all. These artful women have come it over you have 
 entrapped you. ' ' The young man here made a strong ges 
 ture of protest. ' ' Oh, don' t try to deceive me, ' ' his uncle 
 proceeded, more loudly and passionately ; "I know the 
 world. If I'd blindly made promises to adventurers who 
 would compass my ruin, ought I to keep them ? If I find 
 I've indorsed a forged check, ought I not to stop its pay 
 ment ? In the name of your parents and as your uncle, I 
 protest against this folly, for I see well enough where it will 
 end. Moreover, I tell you plainly that you must choose be 
 tween me and my offers, and that old sot of a Jocelyn and 
 his scheming wife and daughters. If you can be carried 
 away by such absurdity, you are weaker than water, and the 
 sooner you learn by bitter experience the better, for you cer 
 tainly belong to that class which only hard experience can 
 teach. But I'd like to see those brazen-faced creatures and 
 give them a piece of "
 
 STRONG TEMPTATION. 4" 
 
 " Stop !" thundered Roger ; " beware how you say an 
 other word against those whom sorrow should render sacred. 
 You know less about them than about heaven. Do you 
 forget that I am of age ? You made me an offer, and 1 
 thanked you for it honestly and gratefully. What's more, I 
 was base enough to be tempted by it. Oh, yes" with a 
 bitter laugh ' ' I was an Atwood enough for that. If you 
 had not coupled it with the condition that I should, like a 
 coward, desert helpless and unfortunate women to whom my 
 word is given, I would have fulfilled your best hopes and 
 ambitions, and have made your old age glad with my grate 
 ful love and service. In your cold-hearted worldliness you 
 have overreached yourself, and you wrong yourself more 
 than me, even though I perish in the streets. But I won't 
 starve. Mark my words ; I'll place the Atwood name where 
 you can't, with all your money, and I shall not make broken 
 faith with those who trust me, the foundation of my for 
 tunes." 
 
 " Very well, then," said his uncle, who had quieted down 
 into an anger of white heat ; " since you prefer those dis 
 reputable strangers to your family, go to them. I wash my 
 hands of you, and shall write to your father to this effect to 
 night. I'm a prompt man and don't dilly-dally." 
 
 " Mrs. Jocelyn and her daughters are no more disreputable 
 than you are, sir, and calling me ' soft-headed fool ' doesn't 
 make me one. I know the duty I owe my parents, and 
 shall perform it. I shall write to them also. They shall 
 hear both sides, and were your fortune multiplied a thou 
 sand times, I won't sell my manhood for it. Am I to have 
 shelter another night, or do you wash your hands of me here 
 and now ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Oh, stay by all means, or you may find yourself in the 
 same cell in which your paragon spent last night," replied 
 his uncle, whose rage now passed all bounds.
 
 422 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 4 'Those words are brutal," said Roger sternly, "and if 
 you are not ashamed of them after thinking them over, you 
 are not the man I took you to be," and he stalked out of the 
 room and out of the house, slamming the door after him. 
 
 The old merchant sank into a chair, trembling with both 
 anger and chagrin, for he felt that he had been worsted in 
 the encounter. He did regret the words as soon as spoken, 
 and a certain rude sense of justice made him feel, even in his 
 excitement, that his nephew, although an egregious fool of 
 course, had been true to his sense of right and honor. He 
 was assuredly the victim of a designing lot of women, but 
 believing them to be true, his course had been manly, and 
 the thought would come, " Since he was so faithful to them, 
 he would have been equally so to me, and he might have 
 found the huzzies out in time to prevent trouble." And 
 now he had said words which in effect turned his brother's 
 son out of doors at midnight. With something like a groan 
 and an oath he resolved not to write that night, and to see 
 how he felt in the morning. His nephew on provocation 
 had proved as great a Tartar as he knew himself to be, and 
 he now remembered that the former had some excuse in his 
 hot young blood, and that he had a right to choose against 
 his offer, if fool enough to do it, without being reviled and 
 insulted. 
 
 After a wretched night he found on the breakfast- table a 
 brief, cold note from Roger, saying that he would inform 
 him in a day or two where to send his effects and such part 
 of his salary as remained unpaid. The old man frowned, 
 and the Atwood pride and obstinacy took possession of him 
 like evil spirits. In grim reticence he resumed his old rou 
 tine and life, and again gave himself up to the mechanical 
 accumulation and saving of money.
 
 NO "DARK CORNERS." 43 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 NO "DARK CORNERS." 
 
 FROM his uncle's house Roger went to a small hotel and 
 obtained a room in which to spend a sleepless night 
 After the excitement of anger passed, he recognized the diffi 
 culties of his position. He was worse than friendless in the 
 great city, for when he sought employment and gave an ac 
 count of his antecedents, people would ask suspiciously why 
 he left his uncle. The reasons were of too delicate a nature 
 to be babbled about in business offices. 
 
 At first he was much depressed, and complained that 
 ' ' luck was dead against him. ' ' Moreover he felt that he 
 had responded too harshly to his uncle, who, after all, was 
 only trying to aid him in his cold-blooded way. Neverthe 
 less he, too, had his share of the Atwood pride and obstinacy, 
 and he resolved that the man who had called him a " soft 
 headed fool " for sacrificing himself to his sense of honor 
 and duty must apologize before there could be any recon 
 ciliation. His good sense led him to make one wise resolu 
 tion, and early in the morning he carried it out by making 
 a clean breast of it to Mr. Wentworth. The good man 
 listened with deep interest, and heartened the young fellow 
 wonderfully by clapping him on the shoulder and saying, 
 " You are made of the right stuff, Atwood, and although the 
 material is yet a little raw and crude, experience and Chris 
 tian principle will temper it in time into the finest metal." 
 
 " Don't ascribe Christian principle to me," growled 
 Roger, " for I'm tempted to swear like a pirate."
 
 424 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Very likely, and not without some reason. I occasion 
 ally feel a little that way myself, but I don't do it ; neither 
 have you. ' ' 
 
 Roger stared. ' ' You' re not a bit like a minister, ' ' he 
 burst out 
 
 " Sorry to hear it." 
 
 " That isn't what I mean. You are a man. Our dom 
 inie up at Forestville was only a minister." 
 
 " I have my share of human nature, Roger, and am glad 
 of it, for I know from experience just how you young fellows 
 feel. But it involves many a big fight. Christian principle 
 doesn't mean a cotton-and-wool nature, or a milk-and-water 
 experience, to put it in a homely way. It's Christian prin 
 ciple that makes Mildred Jocelyn, as you say, one of the 
 bravest and best girls in the world. She's worth more than 
 all your uncle's money, and you needn't be discouraged, 
 for you'll win her yet A young fellow with your pluck can 
 make his way unaided, and thousands have done so without 
 your motives or your ability. I'll stand by you, for you are 
 the kind of man that I believe in. To make your course 
 completely blameless, you must write a long filial letter to 
 your mother, explaining everything ; and if you'll take my 
 advice you will send something like this to your uncle;" 
 and sitting down he scratched off the following words : 
 
 " On calmer reflection I perceive that your intentions 
 toward me were kindly and friendly. I should have re 
 membered this, and the respect due to your years, and not 
 have spoken so harshly. For all that it was not right for me 
 to say, I apologize. At the same time it is my undoubted 
 right and unwavering purpose to be guided by my own con 
 science. Our views of life and duty vary so widely that it 
 will be best for me to struggle on alone, as I can. This, 
 however, is no reason why we should quarrel, or forget the 
 ties of blood which unite us, or our characters as gentlemen,"
 
 NO "DARJT CORNERS." 425 
 
 " Such a note will put you right with your own conscience 
 and your people at home, ' ' resumed Mr. Wentworth, ' ' and 
 there's nothing like starting right." 
 
 Roger complied at once, for the clergyman's " human 
 nature' ' had gained his unlimited confidence. 
 
 " Now I'm going out," said his friend. " You stay and 
 make my study your own. There is paper, etc. I think I know 
 of a room that you can obtain for a small sum from a nice, 
 quiet family, and perhaps it will just suit you. I'll see ; but 
 don't take it if you don't like it. You'll stay and lunch with 
 us, and we'll drink to your success in generous cups of coffee 
 that only my wife knows how to make, ' ' and he left Roger 
 cheered, hopeful, and resolute. What was better still, the 
 young man was starting right, as was well proved by the 
 long, affectionate, yet firm and manly letter written to his 
 mother. 
 
 After a genial lunch, at which he was treated with a respect 
 and kindness which did him a world of good, he went with 
 Mr. Wentworth to see the room, and was well pleased with 
 it, and he added his future address to the note to his uncle. 
 He then said, 
 
 ' ' I keep my promise about Mr. Jocelyn, and the sooner 
 that man is put under treatment the better. ' ' 
 
 " Why, Roger !" exclaimed his friend, " you can't do 
 anything now." 
 
 " I can do just what I promised. I have a hundred dol 
 lars in the bank, and there is about twenty-five still due me. 
 With the latter sum I can get along until I can find em 
 ployment. " 
 
 " Hold on, Roger ; it seems to me that your generosity 
 is getting the better of you now. Circumstances have greatly 
 changed since you made your promise. ' ' 
 
 " I've not changed, and my promises don't change with 
 circumstances. It may be some time before you can raise
 
 426 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the money, even if you can get it at all in these hard times, 
 and it's something that ought to be done at once." 
 
 1 ' Give me your hand again, old fellow. The world would 
 say we were a pair of fools, but we' 11 wait and see who' s 
 right. Come to me at nine to-morrow morning." 
 
 Mr. Wentworth had several things on hand that he meant 
 to do, but he dropped everything and started for the offices 
 of some lawyers whom he knew, determined to find a foot 
 hold at once for his plucky protege. Roger went to call on 
 Mrs. Jocelyn, feeling that he would like to get the matter re 
 lating to her husband settled, so that he might give all his 
 thought and energy to the problem of making his way unaided. 
 In response to his knock a light step crossed the floor, and 
 the door was opened a little, revealing Mildred's face, then 
 it was thrown open hospitably. "Oh, Mr. Atwood," she 
 exclaimed, ' ' I am very glad to see you. Forgive me that I 
 opened the door so suspiciously, but you have never lived in 
 a tenement, and do not know what awful neighbors are often 
 prowling around. Besides, I was alone, and that made me 
 more timid. I am so troubled about something, and per 
 haps you can help me, for you seem to be able to help every 
 one," Mildred continued hastily, for she dreaded an em 
 barrassing silence between them unspeakably. " I've been 
 to see my employers in the hope they would forgive that poor 
 girl who put the lace in my cloak, and they won't. They 
 were polite and kind to me, and offered me better wages if I 
 would come back, but were relentless toward the girl, saying 
 they ' meant to break up that kind of thing once for all. ' 
 Don't you think something might be done T' 
 
 " If you failed there would be no use of my trying," said 
 Roger, smiling. ' ' I think it was wonderfully good of you 
 to go on such an errand. ' ' 
 
 " I've had some lessons in goodness lately," she replied, 
 With a little friendly nod. " As I talked with those stern
 
 NO "DARK CORNERS." 427 
 
 men, I realized more than ever what an escape I've had, and 
 I've thanked you in my heart a thousand times." 
 
 The young fellow looked as if he had been repaid a thou 
 sand times, and wondered that he could have been so 
 tempted by his uncle's terms, for it now seemed impossible 
 that he could ever do aught else than serve the sweet, sad girl 
 who looked into his eyes with the trust and friendliness which 
 he had sought for so long in vain. His face became so ex 
 pressive of his feelings that she hurried on to speak of another 
 matter weighing on her mind. 
 
 " Mr. Atwood," she said hesitatingly, " I have another 
 trouble. You looked so vindictively at that Mr. Bissel 
 in the court-room that I have feared you might do some 
 thing that you would afterward regret. I know how 
 one with your honorable spirit would feel toward such a 
 wretch, but, believe me, he is beneath your notice. I should 
 feel so badly if you got into any trouble on my account 
 Indeed it seems that I couldn't stand it at all," and she said 
 it with so much feeling that he was honestly delighted. His 
 spirits were rising fast, for this frank, strong interest in his 
 welfare, in contrast with her old constraint and coldness, 
 was sweet to him beyond all words. 
 
 With a mischievous and rather wicked look in his dark 
 eyes, he said, " You must leave that fellow to me. I'm 
 not a saint as you are." 
 
 Mildred proved that she was not altogether a saint by in 
 wardly relishing his spirit, for she never could overcome some 
 of the traits of her Southern blood ; but she said, honestly 
 and anxiously, ' ' I should feel very badly if you got into any 
 trouble." 
 
 " That thought will make me prudent," he replied grate 
 fully. " You would never feel badly again about anything, 
 if I had my way." 
 
 ' ' I believe you, Mr. Atwood, and I can' t see why I did
 
 428 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 not understand you better before," said Mildred, the words 
 slipping out almost before she knew it." 
 
 " I don't think you understand me yet," he answered, 
 very gently. 
 
 She did not reply, but he saw her fingers trembling with 
 nervous apprehension as she tried to go on with her sewing ; 
 he also saw that she was growing very pale. Indeed she had 
 almost the sick, faint look of one who is about to submit to 
 some painful operation. 
 
 " Don't be frightened, Miss Mildred," he remarked, after 
 watching her keenly for a moment or two. She looked up 
 and saw him smiling broadly at her. In answer to her per 
 plexed look he continued quietly, " I can tell you what has 
 been the matter between us, and what is the matter now 
 you are afraid of me. ' ' 
 
 " Mr. Aiwood " faltered Mildred, and then words failed 
 her, and her pale face crimsoned. 
 
 ' ' Don' t you think it would be best for us to understand 
 each other, now that we are to be friends ?' ' he asked. 
 
 " Yes," gasped the young girl faintly, fearing every 
 moment that he would lose his self-control and pour out a 
 vehement declaration of his love. She was prepared to say, 
 "Roger Atwood, lam ready to make any sacrifice within 
 my power that you can ask," but at the same time felt that 
 she could endure slow torture by fire better than passionate 
 words of love, which would simply bruise the heart that could 
 make no response. If he would only ask quietly, "Mil 
 dred, will you be my wife when the right time comes? I'll 
 be content with such love as you can give;" she would 
 have replied with the calmness of an unalterable purpose, 
 ' ' Yes, Roger, and I' 11 do my best, ' ' believing that years of 
 effort might be crowned with success. But now, to have 
 him plead passionately for what she could no more bestow 
 than if she were dead, gave her an indescribable sense of
 
 NO "DARK CORNERS." 4 2 9 
 
 fear, pain, and repugnance ; and she cowered and shrank 
 over the sewing which she could scarcely hold, so great was 
 her nervous apprehension. 
 
 Instead of the vehement declaration there came a low, 
 mellow laugh, and she lifted her eyes and stared at him, her 
 work dropping from her hands. 
 
 Roger understood the situation so well, and was so 
 thoroughly the master of it in his generous self-control and 
 kindly intentions, that he should scarcely be blamed if he got 
 out of it such bitter-sweet enjoyment as he could, and he 
 said, with a twinkle in his eyes, " Miss Millie, I wasn't 
 going to strike you. ' ' 
 
 " I don't understand you at all," cried Mildred, with a 
 pathetically perplexed expression and starting tears, for the 
 nervous strain was becoming a little too prolonged. 
 
 Roger became grave at once, and with a quiet, gentle 
 manner he came to her side and took her hand. ' ' Will you 
 be as honest with me as I shall be with you ?" he asked. 
 
 " I'll try to be." 
 
 " Well, then, I'll soon solve for you my poor little riddle. 
 Miss Mildred, you know that I have loved you ever since 
 you waked up an awkward, lazy, country fellow into the wish 
 to be a man." 
 
 His words were plain enough now, surely, but she was no 
 longer frightened, for he spoke in such a kindly natural voice 
 that she looked him straight in the eyes, with a delicate bloom 
 in her face, and replied, 
 
 " I didn't wish to mislead you, Mr. Atwood, and I 
 wouldn't trifle with you." 
 
 ' ' You have been truth and honesty itself. ' ' 
 
 "No, I've not," she answered impetuously ; "I cher 
 ished an unreasoning prejudice against you, and and I 
 disliked you, though why, I can' t see now, and nobly you 
 have triumphed over both prejudice and dislike."
 
 43 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ' ' It will ever be the proudest triumph of my life ; but, 
 Miss Mildred, you do not love me in the least, and I fear 
 you never will." 
 
 " I am so sorry, so very sorry," she faltered, with crimson 
 face and downcast eyes. 
 
 ' ' I am, too ; but that which I want to say to you is, that 
 you are not to blame, and I don' t blame you. I could not 
 love a girl simply because she wanted me to, were such a 
 thing possible, and why should I demand of you what I 
 couldn't do myself? All I asked in the first place don't 
 you remember it in the old front walk at home ? was friend 
 ship. Let us go back to that. Let me become your sim 
 ple, honest friend, and help you in every way within my 
 power. Don't let me frighten you any more with the dread 
 of high tragedy. Now you've had all the declaration you 
 ever need fear. I won't break loose or explode under any 
 provocation. I can't help my love, and you must not pun 
 ish me for it, nor make yourself miserable about it, as if it 
 were a powder magazine which a kind word or look might 
 touch off. I want to put your heart to rest, for you have 
 enough to bear now, Heaven knows ; I want you to feel safe 
 with me as free from fear and annoyance as Belle is. I 
 won't presume or be sentimental. 
 
 " Oh, my perverse, perverse heart !" wailed Mildred. " I 
 could tear it out of my breast and throw it away in disgust 
 I want to love it would be a poor return for all that you are 
 and have done for me but it is of no use. I will not de 
 ceive one so true as you are, by even a trace of falseness. 
 You deserve the love of the best woman in the world, and 
 some day you'll find her " 
 
 " I have found her," he put in quietly. 
 
 " No, no, no !" she cried passionately ; " but I am as 
 nature made me, and I can't seem to help myself. How 
 strange it seems that I can say from the depths of my soul I
 
 NO "DARK CORNERS." 43 1 
 
 could die for you, and yet that I can't do just the one thing 
 you deserve a thousand times ! But, Roger, I will be the 
 most devoted sister that ever a man had." 
 
 " No," he said, smiling, " that won't answer at all. That 
 wouldn't be honest, as far as I am concerned. Belle is my 
 sister, but you can never be. I know you don' t love me 
 now, and t as I've said, perhaps you never can, but I'm too 
 persistent in my nature to give up the hope. Time may bring 
 changes, and I've got years of up-hill work before I can 
 think of marrying. You are in a self-sacrificing mood now. 
 I saw it in your eyes and manner last night I see it now. 
 Mildred, I could take a very great advantage of you if I 
 chose. ' ' 
 
 1 ' Indeed you could. You don' t know how generous you 
 are. You have conquered me, overwhelmed me by your 
 kindness, and I couldn't say No to anything in your nature 
 to ask." 
 
 For a moment he looked sorely tempted, and then he said 
 brusquely, " I'll put a spoke in that wheel. I'd give all the 
 world for this little hand, but I won't take it until your heart 
 goes with it. So there !" 
 
 The young girl sighed deeply. " You are right," she 
 murmured, " when you give so much I can give so little." 
 
 ' ' That is not what I was thinking of. As a woman you 
 have sacred rights, and I should despise myself if I tried to 
 buy you with kindness, or take advantage of your gratitude. 
 I'll admit, too, since we are to have no dark corners in this 
 talk, that I would rather be loved as I know you can love. 
 I'd rather have an honest friendship than a forced affection, 
 even though the force was only in the girl's will and wishes. 
 I was reading Maud Miiller the other night, and no woman 
 shall ever say of her life's happiness, that but for me ' it 
 might have been.' ' 
 
 " I don't think any woman could ever say that of you."
 
 43 2 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 "Mildred, you showed me your heart last night, and it 
 has a will stronger than your will, and it shall have its way. ' ' 
 
 The girl again sighed. " Roger," she said, " one reason 
 why I so shrank from you in the past was that you read my 
 thoughts. You have more than a woman's intuition." 
 
 " No," he said, laughing a little grimly, "I'm not a bit 
 feminine in my nature. My explanation may seem absurd 
 to you, but it's true, I think. I am exceedingly fond of 
 hunting, and I so trained my eyes that if a leaf stirred or a 
 bird moved a wing I saw it. When you waked me up, and 
 I determined to seek my fortunes out in the world, I carried 
 with me the same quickness of eye. I do not let much that 
 is to be seen escape me, and on a face like yours thoughts 
 usually leave some trace." 
 
 ' You didn' t learn to be a gentleman, in the best sense of 
 the word, in the woods, ' ' she said, with a smile. 
 
 " No, you and your mother taught me that, and I may 
 add, your father, for when I first saw him he had the perfec 
 tion of manners. ' ' He might also have referred to Vinton 
 Arnold, whom he had studied so carefully, but he could not 
 bring himself to speak of one whom in his heart he knew to 
 be the chief barrier between them, for he was well aware that 
 it was Mildred's involuntary fidelity to her first love that made 
 his suit so dubious. At his reference to her father Mildred's 
 eyes had filled at once, and he continued gently, " We un 
 derstand each other now, do we not ? You won' t be afraid 
 of me any more, and will let me help you all to brighter 
 days ?' ' 
 
 She put both of her hands in his, and said earnestly, ' ' No, 
 I will never be afraid of you again, but I only half understand 
 you yet, for I did not know that there was a man in the 
 world so noble, so generous, so honest. You have banished 
 every trace of constraint, and I' 11 do everything you say. ' ' 
 
 There was a look of almost boyish pleasure on his face aa
 
 NO "DARK CORNERS: 1 433 
 
 sht spoke, and in imitation of the heroes of the interminable 
 old-time romances that once had formed the larger part of 
 his reading, he was about to raise her hand to his lips when 
 she snatched it away, and as if mastered by an impulse not 
 to be controlled, put her arms around his neck and kissed 
 him, then burst into tears with her head upon his shoulder. 
 
 He trembled a moment, and said, in low tones, " God 
 bless you, Millie." Then he gently placed her in her chair. 
 ;< You mustn't do that again," he said gravely. " With you 
 it was but a grateful sisterly impulse, but if I were Samson 
 I'd not be strong enough well, you understand me. I 
 don't want to give the lie to all I've said." 
 
 ' ' Oh, Roger, Roger, ' ' sobbed the girl, ' ' I can do noth 
 ing for you, and yet you have saved me from shame and are 
 giving us all hope and life." 
 
 ' ' You are responsible for all there is good in me, ' ' he 
 tried to say lightly, ' ' and I' 11 show you in coming years if 
 you have done nothing for me. Good-by now. It's all 
 right and settled between us. Tell Mrs. Jocelyn that one 
 hundred dollars are ready as soon as she can induce her hus 
 band to take the step we spoke of. ' ' And he hastened away, 
 feeling that it was time he retreated if he would make good 
 the generous words he had spoken.
 
 434 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 "HOME, SWEET HOME!" 
 
 , Millie," cried Mrs. Jocelyn, entering with the 
 children and throwing herself into a chair, fatigued 
 and panting from her walk and climb of the stairs, " I've so 
 much to tell you. Oh, I'm so distressed and sorry. It 
 seems that evil has become our lot, and that we bring noth 
 ing but evil to others. You, too, look as if you had been 
 crying as if your heart would break. ' ' 
 
 ' ' No, mamma, I feel much better more at rest than I 
 have been for a long time. My tears have done me good. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Well, I' m sorry I must tell you something that will 
 grieve you dreadfully, but there's no help for it. It does 
 seem when things are going wrong in one's life, there's no 
 telling where they'll stop. You know Mrs: Wheaton works 
 for Roger's aunt, Mrs. Atwood. Well, she was there this 
 morning, and Mrs. Atwood talked dreadfully about us, and 
 how we had inveigled her nephew into the worst of folly. 
 She told Mrs. Wheaton that Mr. Atwood had intended to give 
 Roger a splendid education, and might have made him his 
 heir, but that he demanded, as his condition, that he should 
 have nothing more to do with such people as we were, and 
 how Roger refused, and how after a bitter quarrel the latter 
 left the house at midnight. She also said that his uncle 
 would have nothing more to do with him, and that his fam 
 ily at home would be almost equally angry. Oh, 1 feel as if 
 I could sink into the earth with shame and worry. What 
 shall we do ?"
 
 " HOME, S WEE T HOME !" 435 
 
 " Surely, mamma, there is some mistake. Roger was 
 here much of the afternoon, and he never said one word 
 about it," Mildred answered, with a troubled face. 
 
 " It's just like him. He didn't want to pain you with the 
 news. What did he say ?" she asked, with kindling interest, 
 and Mildred told her substantially all that had occurred. 
 
 "Well, Millie," said her mother emphatically, "you 
 will be the queerest girl on the face of the earth if you can' t 
 love him now, for he has given up everything for you. He 
 might have been richer than Vinton Arnold. ' ' 
 
 " He must not give up anything," said Mildred 
 resolutely. " There is reason in all things. He is little 
 more than a boy in years, and he has a boy's simplicity ancf 
 unworldliness. I won't let him sacrifice himself for me. 
 He doesn't know what he is doing. His aunt's estimate of 
 such people as we have become is correct, and I' 11 perish a 
 thousand times before I'll be the means of dragging dowij 
 such a man as Roger Atwood. If I knew where to find hirj% 
 I'd go and tell him so this moment" 
 
 That was a dreary hour in the poor little home, but worse 
 things were in store for them, for, as Mrs. Jocelyn said, when 
 things are going wrong there is a terrible logic about them, 
 and malign events follow each other with almost inevitable 
 sequence. All was wrong with the head of the family, and 
 terrible were the consequences to his helpless wife and chil 
 dren. Mr. Jocelyn heard a rumor of Mildred's experience 
 in the police court, and he went to the place that day and 
 obtained some account of the affair. More clearly and 
 awfully than ever before he comprehended the depths into 
 which he had fallen. He had not been appealed to he had 
 not even been told. He did not stop to consider how good 
 the reasons were for the course his family had taken, but, 
 blind with anger and despair, he sought his only refuge from 
 the hell within his breast, and began drinking recklessly. By
 
 43 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the time he reached the tenement where he dwelt he was in 
 a state of wild intoxication. A man at the door called him a 
 drunken beast, at which Mr. Jocelyn grasped him by the 
 throat and a fierce scuffle ensued. Soon the whole popu 
 lous dwelling was in an uproar, while the man retreated, 
 fighting, up the stairways, and his infuriated assailant fol 
 lowed with oaths and curses. Women and children were 
 screaming, and men and boys pouring out of their rooms, 
 some jeering and laughing, and others making timid and 
 futile efforts to appease and restrain the liquor-crazed man. 
 
 Suddenly a door opened, and a pale face looked out ; then 
 a slight girlish figure darted through the crowd and clasped 
 Mr. Jocelyn. He looked down and recognized his daughter 
 Mildred. For a moment he seemed a little sobered, and 
 then the demon within him reasserted itself. " Get out of 
 my way !" he shouted. "I'll teach that infernal Yankee to 
 insult a Southern officer and gentleman. Let me go, ' ' he 
 said furiously, " or I' 11 throw you down the stairway, ' ' but 
 Mildred clung to him with her whole weight, and the men 
 now from very shame rushed in and overpowered him. 
 
 He was speedily thrust within his own doorway, and Mil 
 dred turned the key after him and concealed it Little 
 recked the neighbors, as they gradually subsided into quiet, 
 that there came a crash of crockery and a despairing cry 
 from the Jocelyns' room. They had witnessed such scenes 
 before, and were all too busy to run any risk of being sum 
 moned as witnesses at a police court on the morrow. The 
 man whom Mr. Jocelyn had attacked said that he would see 
 the agent of the house in the morning and have the Jocelyn 
 family sent away at once, because a nuisance, and all were 
 content with this arrangement. 
 
 Within that locked door a terrible scene would have been 
 enacted had it not been for Mildred's almost supernatural 
 courage, for her father was little better than a wild beast In
 
 "HOME, SWEET HOME /" 437 
 
 his mad rush forward he overturned the supper-table, and the 
 evening meal lay in a heap upon the floor. The poor wife, 
 with a cry in which hope and her soul itself seemed to depart, 
 fell swooning on the children's bed, and the little ones fled 
 to the darkest corner of Mildred's room and cowered in 
 speechless fear. There was none to face him save the slight 
 girl, at whom he glared as if he would annihilate her. 
 
 " Let me out !" he said savagely. 
 
 " No," said the girl, meeting his frenzied gaze unwaver 
 ingly, ' ' not until you are sober. ' ' 
 
 He rushed to the door, but could not open it. Then 
 turning upon Mildred he said, " Give me the key no words 
 or I'll teach you who is master." 
 
 There were no words, but- only such a look as is rarely 
 seen on a woman's face. He raised his hand to strike her, 
 but she did not shrink a hair's breadth. " Papa," she said, 
 in a low, concentrated tone, ' ' you called yourself a Southern 
 gentleman. I did not dream you could strike a woman, 
 even when drunk. 
 
 The effect of her words was magical. His hand sank to 
 his side. Then he raised it and passed it over his brow as if 
 it all were a horrid dream. Without a word he went with 
 unsteady step to his own room, and again Mildred locked 
 the door upon him. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn's swoon was long and death-like, and before 
 Mildred could restore her, Belle, returning from her work, 
 tried to enter, and finding the door locked called for admit 
 tance. When she crossed the threshold and saw the supper 
 dishes broken and scattered on the floor ; when she saw her 
 mother looking as if dead, the little ones crying at her side, 
 and Mildred scarcely less pale than the broken-hearted 
 woman, with a desperate look in her blue eyes, the young 
 girl gave a long, low cry of despair, and covering her face with 
 her hands she sank into a chair murmuring, ' ' I can' t endure
 
 4 .5 3 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 this any longer I'd rather die. We are just going to raclt 
 and ruin. Oh, I wish I could die, for I'm getting reckless 
 and and wicked. Oh, oh, oh ! " 
 
 " Belle, come and help me," said Mildred, in the hard, 
 constrained tones of one who is maintaining self-control by the 
 utmost effort. Belle complied, but there was an expression 
 on her face that filled her sister's soul with dread. 
 
 It were well perhaps to veil the agony endured in the 
 stricken household that night. The sufferings of such 
 women as Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred cannot be portrayed in 
 words, and the dark chaos that had come into poor Belle's 
 tempted, despairing, immature soul might well make her 
 good angel weep. With a nature craving sunshine and pleas 
 ure like the breath of life, she felt herself being dragged hope 
 lessly into darkness, shame, and abject poverty. The poor 
 child was not deliberately contemplating evil she was scarcely 
 capable of doing good or evil deliberately but a youth who 
 had sought her once before, and of whom she had long been 
 shy, was again hovering around her. 
 
 She was more wary now, yet bolder, and received his ad 
 vances with a manner tinged with mocking coquetry. He 
 was profuse with promises, and she tried to believe them, but 
 in her heart she could not, and yet she did not repulse him 
 with that stern, brief decision which forms the viewless, im 
 passable wall that hedges virtue. 
 
 The sisters tried to remove the outward traces of their 
 wrecked home, and mechanically restored such order as was 
 within their power, but in their secret souls they saw their 
 household gods overturned and trampled upon, and, with 
 the honor and manhood of their father, they felt that night as 
 if they had lost everything. 
 
 After they had quieted their mother and brought the poor 
 creature a brief oblivion, Mildred made a passionate appeal 
 to Belle to stand by her. The warm-hearted girl cried and
 
 "HOME, SWEET HOME r 439 
 
 wrung her hands passionately, but all her trembling sister 
 could obtain from her were the words, 
 
 " Millie, we are being dragged down I don't kno\ff 
 where. ' ' 
 
 Events followed rapidly. Before Mr. Jocelyn, sullen, 
 nerveless, racked with headache and tortured with heartache, 
 could leave his room on the morrow, the agent of the tene 
 ment served a notice on him to the effect that he must vacate 
 his rooms at once ; that the other tenants complained of him 
 as a nuisance ; and that he (the agent) would be content to 
 lose the rent for the few days that had elapsed since the last 
 regular payment if they would all go out at once. The angry 
 reply was that they would move that day, and, without a 
 word, he left his family in suspense. In the course of the 
 forenoon he returned with a furniture van, and had so braced 
 himself with opium that he was able to assist effectively, yet 
 morosely, in the packing and removing of their fast-dwin 
 dling effects, for everything not essential had been sold. His 
 wife and daughter did not remonstrate they were too dis 
 pirited for that but in dreary apathy did his bidding as far 
 as their strength permitted, feeling meanwhile that any 
 change could scarcely be for the worse. 
 
 Mildred almost felt that it was for the better, for their new 
 shelter was in a small rear tenement not far from the old 
 mansion, and was reached from the street by a long covered 
 passageway. To her morbid fancy it suggested the hiding- 
 place that her heart craved. She now scarcely heeded the 
 facts that the place was anything but cleanly and that 
 their neighbors were more unpromising in appearance than 
 those they had just left. Mrs. Jocelyn was so ill and weak 
 that she ought not to raise her hands, and Mildred felt that 
 her strength was unequal to the task of even arranging their 
 household articles so as to make the poor little nook inhabit 
 able. She therefore went for their old stanch ally Mrs.
 
 440 W I THOU 7^ A HOME. 
 
 Wheaton, who returned with her and wrought such miracles 
 as the wretched place permitted of. In just foreboding she 
 shook her head over the prospects of her friends in such a 
 neighborhood, for her experienced eyes enabled her to gauge 
 very correctly the character of the people who lived across the 
 hall and in the upper and lower stories. They were chiefly 
 ignorant and debased Irish families, and the good woman' s 
 fears were not wholly due to race antipathy. In the tene 
 ment from which they came, the people, although poor, were 
 in the main stolid, quiet, and hard-working, but here on 
 every side were traces and hints, even at midday, of degraded 
 and vicious lives. The classes in the tenements appear to 
 have a moral gravity or affinity which brings to the same level 
 and locality those who are alike, and woe be to aliens who 
 try to dwell among them. The Jocelyns did not belong to 
 the tenement classes at all, and Mrs. Wheaton correctly fear 
 ed that the purgatory which was the corner-stone in their 
 neighbors' creeds would be realized in the temporal experi 
 ence of the Southern family. Now that the step had been 
 taken, however, she concealed her anxieties, and did her best 
 to avoid collisions with the burly, red-faced women and inso 
 lent children whose officious offers of help were but thin veils 
 to a coarse curiosity and a desire for petty pilfering. Mildred 
 shuddered at the people about her, and was cold and brief in 
 her words. As it was, Fred nearly brought on general hos 
 tilities by resisting a shock-headed little urchin who had not 
 the remotest regard for the principles of meum and fuum. As 
 the sun declined the general verdict of the neighbors was, 
 " They thinks themselves too foine for the loikes o' us, but 
 we'll tache 'em." 
 
 After Mrs. Wheaton had departed with many misgivings, 
 Mildred took her father aside and told him plainly what 
 had occurred the evening before. He sat with his face 
 buried in his hands, and listened without a word. Indeed,
 
 ' ' HOME, S WEE T HOME .'" 44 
 
 he was so overwhelmed with shame and remorse that he was 
 speechless. ' ' Papa, look at me, ' ' she said at last. 
 
 Slowly he raised his bloodshot, fearful eyes to hers, and 
 the expression of his child's face made him tremble. 
 
 " Papa," she said slowly, and her tones were both sad 
 and stern, "you must never come home drunk again. 
 Another such scene might cost mamma her life. If you will 
 take opium, we cannot help it, but you must drink no more 
 vile liquor. I have now learned from bitter experience what 
 the latter means, and what it must lead to. I shall not fail 
 in love and duty to you, but I cannot permit mamma, Belle, 
 and the children to be utterly destroyed. You may do some 
 wild, reckless deed that would blast us all beyond remedy ; 
 therefore, if you have a particle of self-control left, let 
 rum alone, or else we must protect ourselves. We have en 
 dured it thus far, not with patience and resignation, but in a 
 sort of apathetic despair. This apathy has been broken. 
 Belle is becoming reckless, mamma is dying of a broken 
 heart, and the little ones are exposed to influences that 
 threaten to blight their lives. There must be some change 
 for the better. We must at least be relieved from the fear of 
 bodily harm and the intolerable shame of such scenes as oc 
 curred last night. In our hard struggle we must find some 
 kind of a refuge and some degree of quiet and peace in what 
 we call home. It is no kindness to you to endure in silence 
 any longer, and I now see that it will be fatal to those we 
 both love. You may not be able to refrain from opium, but 
 you can and must give up liquor. If you cannot, and there 
 is a remedy in the land, we must avail ourselves of it. I do 
 not know what kind of a place you have brought us to, but 
 I feel sure that we shall need protection. If you should come 
 home again as you did last night, I am satisfied, from the 
 looks of the people in this house, that we should have a scene 
 of violence that I shudder to think of. You had better it
 
 44 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 would be more merciful to stab mamma to her heart than to 
 cause her death by drunkenness." 
 
 Her words were not threatening, but were spoken with the 
 calmness of inexorable resolve, and he sat before her with an 
 ashen face, trembling like an aspen, for it was like the Day 
 of Judgment to him. Then in gentler and pleading accents 
 she told him of their plan to place him under skilful treat 
 ment, and besought him to yield himself up to the care of 
 one who had won much reputation in dealing with cases like 
 his own ; but all the encouragement she could obtain were 
 the words, "I'll think of it." 
 
 The memory of those fearful days on shipboard, when he 
 was without morphia, made him recoil with unspeakable 
 dread from a like ordeal again, but he promised earnestly 
 that he would indulge no more in liquor. With the cunning 
 of an opium maniac he understood his danger, knowing that 
 further scenes of violence would lead to his arrest and im 
 prisonment. Of his gentle wife he had no fears, but this 
 frail, resolute girl subdued him. He saw that he was driving 
 a strong nature to desperation saw it with all the agony and 
 remorse of a naturally good father whose better nature was 
 bound hand and foot by depraved appetites. He was con 
 scious of the terrible wrong that he was inflicting on those for 
 whom he once would have died to shield them from a breath 
 of dishonor. But, come what might, he must have opium 
 now, and to counteract the words of his daughter he took 
 enough morphia to kill all the wretched inmates of the tene 
 ment. Under its slight exhilaration he felt some hope of 
 availing himself of the proposition that he should go to a 
 curative institution, and he half promised that he would be 
 fore long. At this point the painful interview ended, and 
 Mildred went forBalle, who as yet had no knowledge of their 
 change of abode. 
 
 As the two girls returned, in the dusk of evening, to the
 
 "HOME, SWEET HOME!" 443 
 
 long dark passageway that led to the tenement in which they 
 now had rooms, Mildred trembled with fear as she saw that 
 its entrance was surrounded and blocked by a group of rough- 
 looking young men and boys. Belle pushed boldly through 
 them, although they leered, laughed, and made coarse jests. 
 Mildred followed shrinkingly, with downcast eyes. " We'll 
 tache 'em to be neighborly," were the last words she heard, 
 showing that the young ruffians had already obtained their 
 cue from their depraved and low-lived parents. 
 
 They looked forward to a dismal evening, but a loyal 
 friend came to their rescue. Roger, having arranged the 
 room selected for him by Mr. Wentworth, could not resist 
 the temptation to see those who were ever uppermost in his 
 thoughts. In dismay and anxiety he learned of their hasty 
 removal and something of the causes which led to it. From 
 the janitor he obtained their present address, and the appear 
 ance of his broad shoulders and fearless face had a restrain 
 ing influence on the mischief-making propensities of the 
 rowdies who kennelled in the vicinity. The alien new-com 
 ers evidently were not friendless, and there was hesitation in 
 the half-formed measures for their annoyance. 
 
 Roger remained an hour or two, aiding the girls in trying 
 to make the rooms more homelike, which, however, was 
 rather a hopeless task. Mr. Jocelyn, half stupefied by 
 opium, retreated to one of the small dark closet bedrooms, 
 and left the scene unembarrassed by his presence. Roger re 
 marked emphatically that the tenement was no place for 
 them, but Mildred told him that the rent had been paid for 
 a month in advance, and that they must try to endure it, add 
 ing, ' ' The twenty-five dollars that you and Mr. Wentworth 
 obtained for me has been, after all, a perfect Godsend." 
 
 He was touched, and bound to her with bands of steel by 
 the perfect trust she now reposed in him, and he determined 
 to watch over her like an amiable dragon, making it his first
 
 444 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 and constant thought how to rescue them all from their 
 wretched condition. He was much surprised, however, when 
 Mildred said to him, as he was preparing to leave, " Mr. 
 Atwood, there is something I wish to say to you. Will you 
 let me walk a block or two with you, and then bring me 
 back again ?" 
 
 Roger tried to disguise his feelings by saying laughingly 
 that he would "walk to Spuyten Duyvil" with her, but 
 added, " You are too tired to go out at all to-night. I will 
 come to-morrow evening," and he remonstrated so earnestly 
 and kindly that she yielded, promising to rest much of the 
 following day. 
 
 " Oh, Millie," said her mother, with a faint smile, " it 
 does my heart good to see that there is some one who knows 
 how and has the will to take care of you." 
 
 ' Yes," cried Belle, " this place is a perfect hole. It's 
 not fit for nice girls to be seen in, and if Roger gives us a 
 chance to get out of it you had better take it as soon as pos 
 sible. I give you fair warning." 
 
 " What do you mean, Belle ?" asked her mother. 
 
 Belle made no answer, but went to her closet bedroom 
 with a morose, sullen look on her face. The poor woman 
 looked inquiringly at Mildred, who said soothingly, " Don't 
 worry, mamma. Belle is a little tired and discouraged to 
 night. She'll be in a better mood in the morning." 
 
 When all were sleeping from the fatigues of the day, she 
 sat alone with clasped hands and eyes so wide and troubled 
 that it seemed as if she could never close them again. 
 " Alas !" she sighed, " what must I do ? He is our good 
 genius, and yet I must drive him away. He must not sacri 
 fice all his prospects for us. It would be most cruel and 
 unjust to let him do so. I must reason with him and show 
 him plainly that it would not be right, and absolve him from 
 every shadow of blame for leaving us to such fate as God
 
 " HOME, S WEE T HOME !" 445 
 
 permits. Because he is so generous and brave he shall not 
 suffer a loss which he cannot now comprehend." 
 
 At last, from utter weariness, she fell into a broken 
 
 sleejx
 
 44$ WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 NEIGHBORS. 
 
 PROMPTLY the following evening Roger appeared, and 
 with glowing cheeks told his friends that Mr. Went- 
 worth had found him employment in a lawyer's office, which 
 would enable him to pay his way and at the same time give 
 him much practical insight into his chosen profession. 
 Mildred looked at him wistfully, but her resolution was not 
 shaken, and they went out together, Roger saying, with a 
 smiling nod at Belle, " It will be your turn to-morrow even 
 ing." 
 
 " Roger," said Mildred, " I've much to say to you, and 
 it is of great importance that you should listen calmly and 
 sensibly." 
 
 "All right," he answered laughingly. "You will find 
 me as quiet and impressible as the oysters over which we'll 
 have our talk, but only on this condition. You shall not 
 fatigue yourself by a word here in the street." Nevertheless 
 she felt the phlegmatic creature's arm trembling under her 
 hand. After a moment he went on, in the same light way, 
 " I want you to understand I am not going to be a friend in 
 name merely ; I intend to assert my rights, and you had 
 better learn from the start that I am the most tremendously 
 obstinate fellow in the city. ' ' 
 
 " But you must listen to reason." 
 
 " Certainly ; so must you." 
 
 "To begin with," she resumed, "I've had my supper, 
 and so don' t need any more. ' '
 
 NEIGHBORS. . 447 
 
 " I haven't had mine, and am ravenous. The idea of 
 talking reason to a hungry man ! I know of a nice quiet 
 restaurant which, at this hour, we'll have almost to ourselves. 
 You surely won't be so unsocial as to let me eat alone." 
 
 " Well, if I yield in trifles you must yield in matters that 
 are vital. Why did you not get your supper before ?" 
 
 " Too busy ; and then, to be honest, I knew I'd enjoy it 
 a hundredfold more with you. I'm a social animal." 
 
 Mildred sighed, for this good-comradeship was making 
 her duty very hard. 
 
 They soon reached the place in question, and Roger or 
 dered enough for four. 
 
 " You don't realize what you are doing in any respect," 
 said Mildred in smiling reproof. 
 
 " Wait half an hour before you settle that question," he 
 replied with a confident nod. " I'll soon prove to you what 
 an unsentimental being I am." 
 
 " Oh," thought Mildred, " how can I give up his friend 
 ship when he acts in this way ? And yet I must He must 
 be shown just how he is wronging himself." When the 
 waiter had departed she looked straight into his eyes with 
 one of her steadfast glances, and said earnestly, ' ' Roger, I 
 appreciate your generous kindness far more than any words 
 can tell you, but the time has come for me to act resolutely 
 and finally. Sad experience has taught me more within a 
 year than most women learn in a lifetime. Mrs. Wheaton, 
 who often works for your aunt, has told us of the sacrifice 
 you have made in our behalf, and we cannot permit it If 
 not in years, I'm much older than you in other respects, and 
 you don't realize " 
 
 Roger interrupted her by leaning back in his chair and 
 breaking out into an irrepressible laugh. ' ' So you are go 
 ing to interfere in behalf of the small boy's interests? My 
 venerable friend, permit me to remind you that I am six feet
 
 448 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 high in my stockings, and have lately reached the mature 
 age of twenty-one. ' ' 
 
 "Roger," replied Mildred, with a pained look on her 
 face, " I'm in earnest, and I've lain awake nearly all of two 
 nights thinking about it." 
 
 " Millie, your oysters are getting cold. You don't know 
 anything about boys, much less about men. Don't you 
 know I'll be much more amiable after supper? It's the 
 nature of the male animal, and what's the use of going 
 against nature ?' ' 
 
 " Oh, Roger, listen to me. I'm desperately in earnest. 
 To let you sacrifice such prospects as Mrs. Wheaton said your 
 uncle held out to you for our sakes oppresses me with guilt. 
 I can't eat anything you don't realize " 
 
 " Millie Jocelyn," said Roger, his face becoming grave 
 and gentle, " I know what you are driving at. You might 
 as well try to stop Spring from coming on. I'm going to 
 be your honest, faithful friend, so help me God ! Even if 
 you left me now and refused to speak to me again, I'd watch 
 over you and yours in every way I could. It's my good 
 destiny, and I thank God for it, for I feel it's making a man 
 of me. I won' t deceive you in one iota, and I admit to my 
 shame that my worldly old uncle tempted me that night, 
 especially after I saw from your face just how you felt. Even 
 then my hope was that I could do more for you by yielding 
 to his views than if I stood out against them, but a little 
 thought convinced me that you would starve rather than take 
 aid from one who would not give open friendship and com 
 panionship, and you would be right. Oh, I exult in your 
 pride, and respect you for it. You are my ideal woman, 
 Millie, and if my uncle had owned this island, and had 
 offered it all to me, I'd have made a wretched bargain in giv 
 ing up for it the privilege of being here this evening, with the 
 i'ight to look you straight in the eyes without sharne. If I
 
 NEIGHBORS. 449 
 
 had yielded to him then, as the devil tempted me to, I'd 
 never have known another day of self-respect or happiness. 
 I'm building now on the rock of honor and manhood, and 
 you can't say anything that will change my purpose. I 
 know what I am about if I am only a ' boy ; ' and Mr. Went- 
 worth, who has been told all, approves of my course. So 
 eat your oysters, Millie, and submit to the inevitable." 
 
 " Oh Roger, Roger, what shall I say to you ?" 
 
 " Look here, Millie ; if you were in my place, would you 
 desert a brave, true girl in misfortune ? No ; unlike me, you 
 would never have hesitated a moment. ' ' 
 
 " But, Roger, as you say you you saw in niy face a 
 truth that absolved you " 
 
 ' ' What I saw in your face, ' ' he said gravely, ' ' is my mis^ 
 fortune It is not anything for which you are to blame in 
 the least. And, Millie, I'd rather have your friendship than 
 any other woman's love. I'm choosing my own course with 
 my eyes open, and, thank God, I've chosen rightly. I'd 
 have been the most miserable fellow in the whole city if I 
 had chosen otherwise. Now I'm happy. It's all right. 
 I've vowed to be a brother to Belle, and to <io all in my 
 power for your sweet, gentle mother. I've vowed to be your 
 true friend in all respects, and if you protested till Doomsday 
 it wouldn't make any difference. I've written to my mother, 
 and I know her well enough to be sure that she will approve 
 of my course. So will my father by and by. He isn' t bad 
 at heart, but, like uncle, a dollar is so large in his eyes that 
 it hides the sun. Be that as it may, I'm just as much of an 
 Atwood as he is, and can be just as obstinate in doing what I 
 know to be right as he can be in requiring a course that 
 would spoil my life. Millie, there never was a scldfe::. in all 
 the past, braver than you have shown yourself to be, and you 
 are a delicate girl that I could carry like a child. Do you 
 advise a young, strong-handed fellow to play the coward, and
 
 450 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 desert the women- 1 love and honor in their sore need and 
 danger ? You have looked on only one side of this ques 
 tion, and you must not think so meanly of me as to even 
 suggest anything of the kind again." 
 
 " Roger, Roger, can you realize what you are saying?" 
 Mildred faltered, a slow, painful flush crimsoning her face. 
 " How can you honor those who are so disgraced? You 
 don't know what papa has become. The world will share 
 your uncle's views concerning us." 
 
 " I do know all about your father, Millie, and I pity him 
 from the depths of my soul. He is the dark background 
 which brings out your absolute truth and purity. I do honor 
 you and Mrs. Jocelyn as I honor my own mother, and I in 
 tend to prove myself worthy of your respect at least, for its 
 loss would be fatal to me. I even honor your rare fidelity, 
 though it stands so awfully in my way. Now, surely, we un 
 derstand each other. But, come, this is far too serious talk 
 for a restaurant and the supper-table. I am now going to 
 give my whole soul to oysters, and I adjure you by our 
 bonds to do the same. Here's to our friendship, Millie, and 
 may I be choked the moment I'm false to it!" and he 
 drained a generous cup of coffee. 
 
 " You won't listen to me, then," she said, with a face 
 wherein perplexity, relief, and gratitude were blended. 
 
 ' ' I won' t listen to a word that will make me the most 
 miserable wretch in the world, and you won't get rid of me 
 as long as I live. So, there, you might as well submit to 
 fate and eat your oysters. ' ' 
 
 Her expression became very grave and resolute. " Roger," 
 she said slowly, ' ' I did not know there was so kind and true 
 a man in the world. I will do anything that you can ask." 
 
 His eyes suddenly became infinitely wistful and tender, and 
 then he gave himself a little characteristic shake as he said, 
 rather brusquely, ' ' I accept that promise, and shall at once
 
 NEIGHBORS. 451 
 
 tax it to the utmost with the request that you eat a jolly 
 good supper and call on me every time I can aid you." 
 
 Her glance in response warmed his soul, and then she 
 gave herself up to social friendliness in a way which proved 
 that a great burden had been taken from her heart. On 
 their way home, however, she hinted her iears in regard to 
 Belle, and Roger understood her thoroughly. For the next 
 few days he watched the young girl, and soon satisfied him 
 self as to the character of the man who was pursuing her. 
 His object now was to obtain some ground for brotherly 
 interference, and one Saturday evening, while following Belle 
 home, he saw a young man join her and receive an undoubt 
 ed welcome. He soon became aware that matters were pro 
 gressing fast and far, for the young people wandered off into 
 unfrequented streets, and once, where the shadows were 
 deepest, he saw Belle's attendant steal his arm about her 
 waist and kiss her. Belle's protest was not very vigorous, 
 and when at last they parted in the passageway that led to 
 Belle's home the kiss was repeated and not resented at all. 
 
 Roger followed the young man, and said, " You have just 
 parted from Miss Belle Jocelyn." 
 
 " Well, that's my affair." 
 
 :< You will find yourself so greatly mistaken that you had 
 better answer my questions honestly. What are your inten 
 tions toward her ? I have the right to ask. ' ' 
 
 " None of your business." 
 
 " Look here, young man, she has acknowledged me as 
 her brother, and as a brother I feel toward her. I've only a 
 few plain words to say. If your intentions are honorable 
 I'll not interfere, although I know all about you, and you 
 are not my style of man by any means. If your intentions 
 are not honorable, and you do not cease your attentions, I'll 
 break every bone in your body I swear it by the God who 
 made me."
 
 452 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Go to the devil !" muttered the fellow. 
 
 ' ' No, sir, nor shall I permit you to take one dear to me 
 to the devil, but I pledge my word to send you straight to 
 him if you harm Belle Jocelyn. Here, stop and look me in 
 the eyes under this lamp. You kissed her twice to-night. 
 Do you intend to make her your wife ?' ' 
 
 There was no answer, but the sullen, half-frightened face 
 was an unmistakable response. " I understand you now," 
 said Roger savagely, taking the fellow by the throat, ' ' and 
 I'll send you swiftly to perdition if you don't promise to let 
 that girl alone," and his gleaming eyes and iron grasp awed 
 the incipient roue so completely that he quavered out, 
 
 " Oh, let go. If you feel the girl is your property, I'll let 
 her alone. ' ' 
 
 Roger gave him a wrathful push which precipitated his 
 limp form into the gutter, and growled as he walked off, " If 
 you value your life, keep your promise. ' ' 
 
 An evening or two later Roger said to Belle, whom he had 
 taken out for a stroll, " I kept my word I cowhided that 
 fellow Bissel, who played such a dastardly part toward your 
 sister. Of course I did not want to get myself into trouble, 
 or give him any power over me, so I found out his haunts 
 and followed him. One night, as he was returning rather 
 late from a drinking saloon, I spoiled his good looks with a 
 dozen savage cuts. He was too confused to see who it was 
 in the dark, and to mislead him more thoroughly I said, with 
 the last blow, ' Take that for lying and causing a poor girl to 
 be sent to prison. ' He thinks, no doubt, that some friend 
 of the thief was the one who punished him. What's more, 
 he won' t forget the lashing I gave him till his dying day, and 
 if I mistake not his smooth face will long bear my marks." 
 
 Belle gave but a languid approval, for she had missed her 
 lover for the last two evenings. " Belle," he continued, 
 gravel)' but gently, " I was tempted to choke the life out of
 
 NEIGHBORS. 453 
 
 a fellow the other night, and it was the life o one who kissed 
 you twice." 
 
 She dropped her hand from his arm, but he replaced it and 
 held it tightly as he resumed, " I'm no make-believe brother, 
 you know. I'm just such a brother as I would be if I had 
 been born with you on a Southern plantation. Though 
 the young man was not to my mind, I told him that if his 
 intentions were honorable I would not interfere, but I soon 
 learned that he was an out-and-out scoundrel, and I said 
 words to him that will make him shun you as he would 
 death. Belle, I would kill him as I used to club rattle 
 snakes in the country, if he harmed a hair of your head, and 
 he knows it." 
 
 " You misjudge him utterly," cried Belle in a passion, 
 " and you have just driven away the one friend that I had in 
 all the world. I won't stand it. I'm not a baby, and I 
 won't be treated like one." 
 
 Roger let her storm on without a word, but at last, when 
 she concluded, " I've no father worthy of the name, and 
 so I'll take care of myself," he asked quietly, 
 
 " How about your mother, Belle ?" 
 
 In strong revulsion the impulsive girl gave way to an 
 equally passionate outburst of grief. " Oh," she cried, " I 
 wish 1 were dead !" 
 
 " Belle," said Roger, very gently now, " if you listened 
 to that fellow you would soon make that wish in earnest. 
 Now in your heart you don't mean it at all. You don't love 
 such a man, and you know it. Why should you throw your 
 young, beautiful life into the gutter ? It is a mere reckless 
 protest against your unhappy life. Belle, you are not seven' 
 teen, and you may live till you are seventy if you take care 
 of yourself. Think of the changes for the better that may 
 come in that time. They shall come, too. I shall share 
 with you all my fortunes, and you have told me many a time
 
 454 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 that I was sure to succeed. I pledge you my word inat r *te- 
 fore many years you shall have good honest men at jour 
 feet," and he reasoned with her so sensibly, and pevted and 
 soothed her so kindly, that at last she clung to his arm a> if it 
 were a defence indeed, and said, with tearful eyes, ' ' YO.U are 
 a brother in the best sense of the word, and I wonder you 
 have patience with such a reckless, passionate fool as I am. 
 I' m not fit for you to speak to. ' ' 
 
 " No, Belle, you are not bad at heart far from it. You 
 are half desperate from your present misfortunes, and in your 
 blind impulse to escape you would make matters infinitely 
 worse. Be patient, dear. It's a long lane that has no turn 
 ing. To one so young as you are life promises very much, 
 if it is not spoiled at the beginning, and Mr. Wentworth 
 would tell us that there is a heaven beyond it all." 
 
 The influence of this interview did not speedily pass from 
 her mind, and by her gentler and more patient bearing Mil 
 dred was taught again how much she owed to one whom she 
 had so long repelled. 
 
 Mr. Wentworth succeeded in interesting the lady to whom 
 he had referred in Mildred, and a visit from the young girl 
 confirmed her good impressions. As a result, sufficient work 
 was found or made to give Mildred steady employment 
 Mr. Jocelyn was comparatively quiet and much at home. 
 Often he was excessively irritable and exasperating in words 
 and manner, but no longer violent from bestial excess. He 
 put off the project of going to a curative institution, with the 
 true opium inertia and procrastination, and all efforts to 
 lead him to definite action proved fruitless. His presence, 
 however, and his quiet, haughty ways, with Roger's frequent 
 visits, did much for a time to restrain the ill-disposed people 
 around them, but the inevitable contact with so much de 
 pravity and coarseness was almost unendurable. 
 
 Now that Mildred no longer went out to her work, she
 
 NEIGHBORS. 455 
 
 taxed her ingenuity to the utmost to amuse Fred and Min 
 nie, that she might keep them from the horrible associations 
 beyond their door, but her father's irritability often rendered 
 it impossible for them to remain in the room, and. Child 
 like, they would assimilate somewhat with the little heathen 
 among whom their lot was now cast. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Jocelyn was sinking under her sorrows. She 
 did not complain : she blamed herself with a growing mor 
 bidness for the ruin of her husband and the hard lot of her 
 children, and hope deferred was making her heart sick in 
 deed. Her refined, gentle nature recoiled with an indescrib 
 able repugnance from her surroundings, and one day she 
 received a shock from which she never fully recovered. 
 
 Her husband was out, and Mildred had gone to deliver 
 some work. The children, whom she tried to keep with 
 her, broke away at last and left the door open. Before she 
 could close it a drunken woman stumbled in, and, sinking 
 into a chair, she let a bundle slip from her hands. It fell 
 on the floor, unrolled, and a dead infant lay before Mrs. 
 Jocelyn' s horrified gaze. Her cries for help brought a stout, 
 red-faced woman from across the hallway, and she seemed to 
 understand what was such a fearful mystery to Mrs. Jocelyn, 
 for she took the unwelcome intruder by the shoulder and 
 tried to get her to go out hastily, but the inebriated wretch 
 was beyond shame, fear, or prudence. Pulling out of her 
 pocket a roll of bills she exclaimed, in hideous exultation, 
 
 " Faix, I'oive had a big day's work. Trhree swell families 
 on the Avenue guv me all this to burry the brat. Burry it ? 
 Divil a bit. It's makin' me fortin'. Cud we on}' git dead 
 babbies enough we'd all be rich, Bridget, but here's enough 
 to kape the pot bilin' for wakes to come, and guv us a good 
 sup o' whiskey into the bargain. Here, take a drap/' she 
 said, pulling out a black bottle and holding it up to Mrs. 
 Jocelyn. ' ' What yer glowrin' so ghostlike for ? Ah, let me
 
 45^ WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 alone, ye ould hag, ' ' she said angrily to the red-faced woman, 
 who seemed in great trepidation, and tried to put her hand 
 over the drunken creature's mouth. "Who's afeard ? 
 Money' 11 buy judge and jury, an' if this woman peaches on 
 us I'll bate her brains out wid the dead babby. " 
 
 Finding that words were of no avail, and that she could 
 not move the great inert mass under which Mrs. Jocelyn's 
 chair was creaking, the neighbor from across the way snatched 
 the money and retreated to her room. This stratagem had 
 the desired effect, for the woman was not so intoxicated as to 
 lose her greed, and she followed as hastily as her unsteady 
 steps permitted. A moment later the red-faced woman 
 dashed in, seized the dead child and its wrappings, and then 
 shaking her huge fist in Mrs. Jocelyn's face, said, " If yees 
 ever spakes of what yer've sane, I'll be the death of ye by 
 the Vargin I will ; so mum's the word, or it'll be worse for 
 ye." 
 
 When Mildred returned she found her mother nervously 
 prostrated. " I've had a bad turn," was her only explana 
 tion. Her broken spirit was terrified by her awful neigh 
 bors, and not for the world would she add another feather's 
 weight to the burdens under which her family faltered by in 
 volving them in a prosecution of the vile impostor who had 
 sickened her with the exposure of a horrible trade. * 
 
 "Mamma," cried Mildred, in sharp distress, "we must 
 leave this place. It's killing you." 
 
 " I wish we could leave it, dear," sighed the poor 
 woman. " I think I'd be better anywhere else." 
 
 " We shall leave it," said the girl resolutely. " Let the 
 rent go. I had already about decided upon it, and now I'll 
 
 * This character is not an imaginary one, and, on ample au 
 thority, I was told of an instance where the large sum of fifty 
 dollars was obtained from some kindly family by this detestable 
 method of imposition.
 
 NEIGHBORS. 457 
 
 go with Mrs. Wheaton to-morrow and find rooms among 
 more respectable people. ' ' 
 
 The events of the evening confirmed her purpose, for the 
 young roughs that rendezvoused nightly at the entrance of 
 the long passageway determined that they would no longer 
 submit to the " uppish airs " of the sisters, but " tache 'em " 
 that since they lived in the same house they were no better 
 than their neighbors. Therefore, as Belle boldly brushed by 
 them as usual on her return from the shop, one young 
 fellow, with a wink to his comrades, followed her, and where 
 the passage was darkest put his arm around her waist and 
 pressed upon her cheek a resounding kiss. In response 
 there came from the entrance a roar of jeering laughter. 
 But the young ruffian found instantly to his sorrow that he 
 had aroused a tigress. Belle was strong and furious from the 
 insult, and her plump hand came down on the fellow's nose 
 with a force that caused the blood to flow copiously. After 
 the quick impulse of anger and self-defence passed she ran 
 sobbing like a child to Mildred, and declared she would not 
 stay another day in the vile den. Mildred was white with 
 anger, and paced the room excitedly for a few moments. 
 
 " Oh, God, that we had a father !" she gasped. " There, 
 Belle, let us be patient, ' ' she continued after a few moments ; 
 ' ' we can' t contend with such wretches. I promise you that 
 this shall be your last day in this place. We ought to have 
 left before. ' ' 
 
 Then, as the girls grew calmer, they resolved not to tell 
 either their father or Roger, fearing that they might become 
 embroiled in a dangerous and disgraceful quarrel involving 
 their presence in a police court. Mildred had given her 
 mother a sedative to quiet her trembling nerves, and she was 
 sleeping in one of the bedrooms, and so happily was not 
 aware of Belle's encounter. 
 
 Mr. Jocelyn soon came in, and, for the first time since
 
 45 8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Mildred's warning, was a little the worse for liquor, but he 
 had the self-control to keep quiet, and after a few mouthfuls 
 of supper went to his room overcome by the stupor he had 
 sought. After the children were sleeping the girls gladly 
 welcomed Roger, for he had become the chief source of 
 light and hope in their saddened lives. And he did brighten 
 and cheer them wonderfully, for, content with a long and 
 prosperous day's work, and full of the hopefulness and cour 
 age of youth, he imparted hope and fortitude to them in 
 spite of all that was so depressing. 
 
 ' ' Come, girls, ' ' he said at last, ' ' you need some oxygen. 
 The air is close and stifling in this den of a house, and out 
 side the evening is clear and bracing. Let's have a stroll." 
 
 ' ' We can' t go far, ' ' said Mildred, ' ' for mamma is sleep 
 ing, and I would not have her wake and be frightened for 
 anything." 
 
 " Well, we'll only go around a block or two. You'll feel 
 the stronger for it, and be in a better condition to move to 
 morrow," for Mildred had told him of her purpose, and he 
 had promised to help them get settled on the following even 
 ing. When they reached the end of the dark passageway 
 they feared that trouble was brewing, for a score of dark, 
 coarse faces lowered at them, and the fellow that Belle had 
 punished glared at her above his bandaged face. Paying no 
 heed to them, however, they took a brief, quick walk, and 
 returned to find the entrance blocked by an increasing num 
 ber of dangerous-looking young ruffians. 
 
 " Stand aside," said Roger sternly. 
 
 A big fellow knocked off his hat in response, and received 
 instantly a blow in the eye which would have felled him had 
 he not been sustained by the crowd, who now closed on the 
 young man. 
 
 ' ' Run up the street and call for police, ' ' he said to the 
 girls, but they were snatched back and held by some of the
 
 NEIGHBORS. 459 
 
 gang, and hands placed over their mouths, yet not before 
 they had uttered two piercing cries. 
 
 Roger, after a brief, desperate struggle, got his back to the 
 wall and struck blows that were like those of a sledge-ham 
 mer. He was dealing, however, with some fairly trained 
 pugilists, and was suffering severely, when a policeman 
 rushed in, clubbing right and left. The gang dispersed in 
 stantly, but two were captured. The girls, half fainting from 
 excitement and terror, were conducted to their room by 
 Roger, and then they applied palliatives to the wounds of 
 their knight, with a solicitude and affection which made the 
 bruises welcome indeed to the young fellow. They were in 
 terror at the idea of his departure, for the building was like 
 a seething caldron. He reassured them by promising to re 
 main until all was quiet, and the police also informed them 
 that the house would be under surveillance until morning. 
 
 On the following day, with Mrs. Wheaton's aid, they 
 found rooms elsewhere, and Roger, after appearing as wit 
 ness against the rowdies that had been captured, and inform 
 ing his employers of what had occurred, gave the remaining 
 hours to the efficient aid of his friends.
 
 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 GLINTS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 THEIR new rooms at first promised remarkably well. 
 They were on the ground-floor of a large tenement 
 that fronted on a rather narrow street, and their neighbors 
 seemed quiet, well-disposed people. Mr. Wentworth soon 
 called and congratulated them on the change. Mrs. Whea- 
 ton frequently came to give Mrs. Jocelyn a " 'elping 'and," 
 as she phrased it, but her eliminations did not extend to her 
 work, which was rounded out with the completeness of hearty 
 good will. Roger rarely missed an evening without giving 
 an hour or two to the girls, often taking them out to walk, 
 with now and then a cheap excursion on the river or a ram 
 ble in Central Park. In the ktter resort they usually spent 
 part of Sunday afternoon, going thither directly from the 
 chapel. Mildred's morbidness was passing away. She had 
 again taken her old class, and her face was gaining a serenity 
 which had long been absent. 
 
 One of the great wishes of her heart now had good pros 
 pect of being fulfilled, for her father had at last consented to 
 go to an institution wherein he could receive scientific treat 
 ment suited to his case. The outlook was growing so hope 
 ful that even Mrs. Jocelyn was rallying into something like 
 hopefulness and courage, and her health was slowly improv 
 ing. She was one whose life was chiefly sustained by her 
 heart and the well-being of those she loved. 
 
 Belle also was improving greatly. The memorable inter 
 view with Roger, already described, had a lasting influence,
 
 GLINTS OF SUNSHINE. 461 
 
 and did much to banish the giddiness of unthinking, ignorant 
 girlhood, and the recklessness arising from an unhappy life. 
 Now that the world was brightening again, she brightened 
 with it. Among his new associates Roger found two or 
 three fine, manly fellows, who were grateful indeed for an in 
 troduction to the handsome, lively girl, and scarcely a week 
 passed during May and June that some inexpensive evening 
 excursion was not enjoyed, and thoroughly enjoyed too, 
 even by Mildred. Roger was ever at his best when in her 
 society. His talk was bright and often witty, and his spirit of 
 fun as genuine and contagious as that of Belle herself. He 
 was now sincerely happy in the consciousness of Mildred's 
 perfect trust and strong affection, believing that gradually, 
 and even before the girl was aware of it, she would learn to 
 give more than friendship. It was his plan to make himself 
 essential to her life, indeed a part of it, and he was ap 
 parently succeeding. Mildred had put her fate into his 
 hands. She felt that she owed so much to him that she was 
 ready to keep her promise literally. At a/iy time for months 
 he might have bound her to him by promises that would 
 never have been broken ; he knew it, and she was aware of 
 his knowledge, but when, instead of taking advantage of her 
 gratitude, he avoided all sentiment, and treated her with a 
 cordial frankness as if she were in truth simply the friend he 
 had asked her to become, all of her old constraint in his 
 . presence was unthought of, and she welcomed the glances of 
 his dark, intent eyes, which interpreted her thoughts even be 
 fore they were spoken. The varying expressions of his face 
 made it plain enough to her that he liked and appreciated 
 her thoughts, and that his admiration and affection were only 
 strengthened by their continued companionship. Moreover, 
 she was well content with what she regarded as her own 
 progress toward a warmer regard for him. 
 
 One moonlit night in June they made up a little party
 
 462 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 for an excursion on a steamer plying down the Bay. Belle had 
 had two attendants, and would have been just as well pleased 
 had there been two or three more. As she once asserted, 
 she could have kept them "all jolly." During the earlier 
 hours Roger had been as merry and full of nonsense as 
 Belle, but on their return he and Mildred had taken seats a 
 little apart from the others and drifted into some talk relating 
 to one of his studies, he in a simple, lucid manner explain 
 ing to her the latest theories on a disputed question. She 
 surprised and pleased him by saying, with a little pathetic 
 accent in her voice, 
 
 ' ' Oh, Roger, you are leaving me far, far behind. ' ' 
 
 " What do you mean, Millie?" 
 
 " Why, you are climbing the peaks of knowledge at a 
 great pace, and what's to become of poor little me, thaf have 
 no chance to climb at all worth naming ? You won' t want 
 a friend who doesn't know anything, and can't understand 
 what you are thinking about." 
 
 " I'll wait for yoji, Millie ; rest assured you shall never be 
 left alone. ' ' 
 
 " No, that won't do at all," she replied, and she was in 
 earnest now. " There is one thing wherein you will find 
 me as obstinate as an Atwood, and that is never to let our 
 friendship retard your progress or render your success doubt- 
 iul, now that you have struck out for yourself. Your rela 
 tives think that I that we shall be a drag upon you ; I have 
 resolved that we shall not be, and you know that I have a 
 little will of my own as well as yourself. You must not 
 wait for me in any sense of the word, for you know how 
 very proud I am, and all my pride is staked on your suc 
 cess. It ought to have been dead long ago, but it seems just 
 as strong as ever. ' ' 
 
 " And I'm proud of your pride. You are a soldier, Mil 
 lie, and it isn't possible for you to say, ' I surrender.' '
 
 GLINTS OF SUNSHINE. 463 
 
 : ' You are mistaken. When you saved me from prison ; 
 when you gave nearly all you had that papa might have the 
 chance which I trust will restore his manhood, I surrendered, 
 and no one knew it better than you did." 
 
 ' ' Pardon me, Millie ; the gates of the citadel were closed, 
 and ever have been. Even your will cannot open them 
 no, not even your extravagant sense of gratitude for what it 
 would be my happiness to do in any case. That something 
 which was once prejudice, dislike, repulsion, has retreated 
 into the depths of your heart, and it won' t yield at least it 
 hasn' t yet. But, Millie, I shall be very patient. Just as 
 truly as if you were the daughter of a millionnaire, your 
 heart shall guide your action. ' ' 
 
 ' ' You are a royal fellow, Roger, ' ' she faltered. ' ' If you 
 were not so genuinely honest, I should think you wonder 
 fully shrewd in your policy. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Well, perhaps the honest course is always the shrewdest 
 in the long run," he replied laughingly, and with a deep 
 gladness in his tone, for her words gave a little encourage 
 ment. " But your charge that I am leaving you behind as 
 I pursue my studies has a grain of truth in it as far as mere 
 book learning goes. In your goodness, Millie, and all that 
 is most admirable, I shall always follow afar off. Since I 
 can't wait for you, as you say, and you have so little time to 
 read and study yourself, I am going to recite my lessons to 
 you that is, some of them, those that would interest you 
 and by telling you about what I have learned I shall fix it 
 all in my mind more thoroughly." 
 
 Mildred was exceedingly pleased with the idea. " I don't 
 see why this isn't possible to some extent," she said gladly, 
 ' ' and I can' t tell you how much hope and comfort it gives 
 me. That I've had so little time to read and cultivate my 
 mind has been one of the great privations of our poverty, but 
 if you will patiently try to make me understand a little of
 
 464 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 what you are studying, I won't relapse into barbarism. Oh, 
 Roger, how good you are to me !" 
 
 ' ' That is like saying, How good I am to myself ! Let 
 me tell you, Millie, in all sincerity, that this plan promises 
 as much for me as for you. Your mind is so quick, and 
 you look at things so differently, that I often get new and 
 better ideas of the subject after talking it over with you. 
 The country boy that you woke up last summer was right in 
 believing that you could be an invaluable friend, for I can't 
 tell you how much richer life has become to me." 
 
 " Roger, how I misunderstood you ! How blind and 
 stupid I was ! God was raising up for me the best friend a 
 girl ever had, and I acted so shamefully that anybody but 
 you would have been driven away." 
 
 " You do yourself injustice, and I wouldn't let any one 
 else judge you so harshly." 
 
 After reaching her room that night, Mildred thought, " I 
 do believe mamma was right, and that an old-fashioned 
 Southern girl, such as she says that I am, can learn to love a 
 second time. Roger is so genuinely good and strong ! 
 It r'ests me to be with him, and he gives some of his own 
 strength and courage. To-night, for the first time since he 
 told me everything so gently and honestly, has anything 
 been said of that which 1 can see is in his mind all the time, 
 and I brought on all that was said myself. I can now read 
 his thoughts better than he can read mine, and it would be 
 mean not to give him a little of the hope and encouragement 
 that he so richly deserves. It troubles me, however, that 
 my mind and heart are so tranquil when I'm with him. 
 That's not the way I once felt," she sighed. " He seems 
 like the dearest brother a girl ever had no, not that ex 
 actly ; he is to me the friend he calls himself, and I'd be 
 content to have things go on this way as long as we 
 lived."
 
 GLINTS OF SUNSHINE. 4 6 5 
 
 " Millie," cried Belle roguishly, " what did Roger say to 
 you to call out such sweet smiles and tender sighs ?" 
 
 The young girl started, and flushed slightly. " We were 
 talking about astronomy, ' ' she said brusquely. 
 
 " Well, I should think so, for the effects in your appear 
 ance are heavenly. If he could have seen you as you have 
 appeared for the last ten minutes, he would be more des 
 perately in love than ever. Oh, Millie, you are so pretty that 
 I am half in love with you myself. ' ' 
 
 " Nonsense ! you are a giddy child. Tell me about your 
 own favorites, and which of them you like best." 
 
 " I like them all best. Do you think I'm going to be 
 such a little goose as to tie myself down to one ? These are 
 but the advance guard of scores. Still I shall always like 
 these ones best because they are kind to me now while I'm 
 only a ' shop-lady. ' ' 
 
 " You mustn't flirt, Belle." 
 
 "I'm not flirting only having a good time, and they 
 know it. I'm not a bit sentimental only jolly, you know. 
 When the right time comes, and I' ve had my fun, I' m going 
 to take my pick of the best." 
 
 " Well, that's sensible. Belle, darling, are not Roger's 
 friends better than those underhanded fellows who could not 
 look mamma in the eyes ?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, Millie, ' ' said the impulsive girl with a rush of tears, 
 " don't speak of those horrid days. I was an ignorant, reck 
 less fool I was almost beside myself with despair and un- 
 happiness ; I could kiss Roger's hands from gratitude. Look 
 here, Millie, if you don't marry him I will, for there's no 
 one that can compare with him." 
 
 " Come, now, don't make me jealous." 
 
 " I wish I could. I've a great mind to flirt with him a 
 little, just to wake up your old stupid heart. Still I think 
 you are coming on very well. Oh, Millie, how I could
 
 466 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 dance at your wedding ! Solid as I am, my feet would 
 scarcely touch the floor. ' ' 
 
 Mildred laughed, and said softly, " It would be a pity to 
 deny you so much pleasure, Belle. ' ' Then she added res 
 olutely, ''' No more talk about weddings, if you please. For 
 long, long years Roger must give his whole mind to his 
 studies. His relatives say that we shall hang helplessly upon 
 him and spoil his life, but we'll prove them mistaken, Belle. 
 I'd work my fingers off to give him the chance that he'll 
 make so much of, for I'm as proud of him as you are." 
 
 " That's the way to talk," exulted Belle. " I see how it's 
 all coming out. He'll stand up head, as I told you, and I 
 told you, too, that he' d win you in spite of yourself. Roger 
 Atwood does all he undertakes it's his way." 
 
 "Well, we'll see," was the half-smiling, half-sighing an 
 swer ; but sanguine Belle had no doubt concerning the 
 future, and soon her long eyelashes drooped over her glow 
 ing cheeks in untroubled sleep. 
 
 " Oh, how good for us all is the sunlight of a little happi 
 ness and hope!" Mildred thought. "Darling mamma is 
 reviving, Belle is blossoming like a blush rose, and I well, 
 thank God for Roger Atwood' s friendship. May I soon be 
 able to thank Him for his love." 
 
 Ah, Mildred Jocelyn, you have still much to learn. A 
 second love can grow up in the heart, but not readily in one 
 like yours. 
 
 Within a month from the time that Mr. Jocelyn entered a 
 curative institution, he returned to his family greatly changed 
 for the better. His manner toward his family was full of re 
 morseful tenderness, and he was eager to retrieve his fortunes. 
 They welcomed him with such a wealth of affection, they 
 cheered and sustained him in so many delicate and sympa 
 thetic ways, that he wondered at the evil spell which had 
 bound him so long and made him an alien among those so
 
 GLINTS OF SUNSHINE. 4 6 7 
 
 lovable and so dearly beloved. He now felt sure that he 
 would devote body and soul to their welfare for the rest of 
 his days, and he could not understand why or how it was 
 that he had been so besotted. The intense sufferings during 
 the earlier stage of his treatment at the institution made him 
 shrink with horror from the bare thought of his old enslave 
 ment, and during the first weeks after his return he did not 
 dream it was possible that he could relapse, although he had 
 been warned of his danger. His former morbid craving was 
 often fearfully strong, but he fought it with a vindictive hatred, 
 and his family, in their deep gladness and inexperience, felt 
 assured that husband and father had been restored to them. 
 
 It seemed as if he could not thank Roger enough, and his 
 eyes grew eloquent with gratitude when the young fellow's 
 name was mentioned, and when they rested on his bright, 
 honest face. Mr. Wentworth went out among his business 
 friends, and so interested one of them that a position was in 
 a certain sense made for the poor man, and although the 
 salary was small at first, the prospect for its increase was good 
 if he would maintain his abstinence and prove that he had 
 not lost his old fine business powers. This he bade so fair 
 to do that hope and confidence grew stronger every day, and 
 they felt that before very long they would be able to move 
 into more commodious quarters, situated in a better part of 
 the city, for by reason of the neglect of the streets and sewer 
 age on the part of the authorities, the locality in which they 
 now were was found to be both very disagreeable and un 
 wholesome. They would have removed at once, but they 
 were eager to repay Roger the money he had loaned them, 
 although he protested against their course. Not realizing 
 their danger, and in the impulse of their pride and integrity, 
 they remained, practising the closest economy. 
 
 Early in July, Roger obtained a vacation, and went home 
 on a visit, proposing to harden his muscles by aiding his
 
 468 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 father through the harvest season. He was so helpful ad 
 so kind and considerate that even grim, disappointed 
 Mr. Atwood was compelled to admit that his boy had be 
 come a man. Mrs. Atwood tenderly and openly exulted 
 over him, and, obeying her impulse, she wrote a friendly let 
 ter to Mildred, which made the young girl very happy. 
 
 Susan became more than reconciled to Roger's course, for 
 he promised that some day she should often come to the city 
 and have splendid times. Clara Bute had become the happy 
 wife of a well-to-do farmer, and she sent an urgent request 
 to Belle and Mildred to visit her. The latter would not leave 
 her parents, but Belle accepted gladly, and the gay, frolic 
 some girl left more than one mild heartache among the rural 
 beaux that vied with each other in their attentions.
 
 HOPES GIVEN AND SLAIN. 469 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 HOPES GIVEN AND SLAIN. 
 
 THE skies seemed serene and bright, with promise to all 
 for many happy days, but clouds were gathering be 
 low the horizon, and, most unexpectedly to him, the first bolt 
 fell upon Roger. A day or two before his return to the city 
 he found at the village office a letter with a foreign post-mark, 
 addressed, in his care, to Miss Mildred Jocelyn. He knew 
 the handwriting instantly, and he looked at the missive as if 
 it contained his death-warrant. It was from Vinton Arnold. 
 As he rode away he was desperately tempted to destroy the 
 letter, and never breathe a word of its existence. He hoped 
 and half believed that Mildred was learning to love him, and 
 he was sure that if Arnold did not appear he would win all 
 that he craved. The letter, which he had touched as if it 
 contained nitro-glycerine, might slay every hope. Indeed he 
 believed that it would, for he understood Mildred better than 
 she understood herself. She believed that Arnold had given 
 her up. Her heart had become benumbed with its own 
 pain, and was sleeping after its long, weary waiting. He was 
 sure, however, that if not interfered with he could awaken it 
 at last to content and happiness. This letter, however, 
 might be the torch which would kindle the old love with ten 
 fold intensity. Long hours he fought his temptation like a 
 gladiator, for fine as had been Mildred's influence over him, 
 he was still intensely human. At last he gained the victory, 
 and went home quiet, but more exhausted than he had ever
 
 47 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 been from a long hot day's toil in the harvest-field. He had 
 resolved to keep absolute faith with Mildred, and having once 
 reached a decision he was not one to waver. 
 
 As his mother kissed him good-by she held him off a 
 moment, then whispered, " Roger, Miss Jocelyn has given 
 you something better than all your uncle's money. I am 
 content that it should be as it is. ' ' 
 
 On the afternoon of the day of his arrival in the city he 
 went to meet his fate. Mrs. Jocelyn greeted him like the 
 mother he had just left, and Mildred's glad welcome made 
 him groan inwardly. Never before had she appeared so 
 beautiful to him never had her greeting been so tinged 
 with her deepening regard. And yet she looked inquiringly 
 at him from time to time, for he could not wholly disguise 
 the fear that chilled his heart. 
 
 " Belle had a perfectly lovely time in the country," said 
 Mrs. Jocelyn. " She has told us all about your people, and 
 what a farmer you became. She said everybody was proud 
 of you up at Forestville, and well they might be, although 
 they don't know what we do. Oh, Roger, my dear boy, it 
 does my heart good to see you again. We have all missed 
 you so much. Oh, you' 11 never know you never can know. 
 Good-by now, for a little while. I promised Mrs. Wheaton 
 that I'd bring the children over and spend the afternoon with 
 her. She is going to show me about cutting some little 
 clothes for Fred. What a dear kind soul she is, with all her 
 queer talk. God bless you, my boy. You bring hope and 
 happiness back with you." 
 
 But the poor fellow was so conscious of his own coming 
 trouble that tears came into his eyes, and after Mrs. Jocelyn 
 had gone he looked at Mildred in a way that made her ask, 
 gently and anxiously, 
 
 "What is it, Roger?" 
 
 After a moment's hesitation he said grimly, " Millie, it's
 
 HOPES GIVEN AND SLAIN. 47 1 
 
 rough on a fellow when he must be his own executioner. 
 There, take it. It's the heaviest load I ever carried in my 
 fife, ' ' and he threw the letter into her lap. 
 
 After a moment's glance she trembled violently, and be-= 
 came pale and red by turns, then buried her face in her 
 hands. 
 
 ' ' I knew it would be so, ' ' he said doggedly. ' ' I knew 
 what was the matter all along." 
 
 She sprang up, letting the letter drop on the floor, and 
 clung to him. " Roger," she cried, " I won't read the let 
 ter. I won't touch it. No one shall come between us no 
 one has the right. Oh, it would be shameful after all " 
 
 " Millie," he said almost sternly, replacing her in her 
 chair, " the writer of that letter has the right to come be 
 tween us he is between us, and there is no use in disguis 
 ing the truth. Come, Millie, I came here to play the man, 
 and you must not make it too hard for me. Read your 
 letter." 
 
 " I can't," she said, again burying her burning face in 
 her hands, and giving way to a sudden passion of tears. 
 
 " No, not while I'm here, of course. And yet I'd like to 
 know my fate, for the suspense is a little too much. I hope 
 he's written to tell you that he has married the daughter of the 
 Great Mogul, or some other rich nonentity, ' ' he added, trying 
 to meet his disappointment with a faint attempt at humor ; 
 " but I'm a fool to hope anything, Good-by, and read 
 your letter in peace. I ought to have left it and gone away 
 at once, but, confound it ! I couldn' t. A drowning man 
 will blindly catch at a straw." 
 
 She looked at him, and saw that his face was white with 
 pain and fear. 
 
 " Roger," she said resolute^, " I'll burn that letter with 
 out opening it if you say so. I'll do anything you ask." 
 
 He paced the room excitedly with clenched hands for a
 
 47 2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 few moments, but at last turned toward her and said quietly, 
 " Will you do what I ask ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes indeed." 
 
 1 ' Then read your letter. ' ' 
 
 She looked at him irresolutely a moment, then made a 
 little gesture of protest and snatched up the missive almost 
 vindictively. 
 
 After reading a few lines her face softened, and she said, 
 in accents of regret which she was too much off her guard to 
 disguise, ' ' Oh, he never received my answer last summer. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Of course not, ' ' growled Roger. ' ' You deserved that, 
 for you gave your note to that old blunderbuss Jotham, when 
 I would have carried it safely. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, Roger, I can't go on with this ; I am wronging you 
 too shamefully." 
 
 ' You would wrong me far more if you were not honest 
 with me at this time, ' ' he said almost harshly. 
 
 His words quieted and chilled her a little, and she replied 
 sadly, ' ' You are right, Roger. You don' t want, nor should 
 I mock you with the mere semblance of what you give." 
 
 ' ' Read the letter, ' ' was his impatient reply, " or I shall 
 go at once. ' ' 
 
 She now turned to it resolutely, proposing to read it with 
 an impassive face, but, in spite of herself, he saw that every 
 word was like an electric touch upon her heart. As she 
 finished, the letter dropped from her hands, and she began 
 crying so bitterly that he was disarmed, and forgot himself in 
 her behalf. " Don't cry so, Millie," he pleaded. " I can't 
 stand it. Come, now ; I fought this battle out once before, 
 and didn't think I could be so accursedly weak again." 
 
 " Roger, read that letter." 
 
 " No," he answered savagely ; " I hate him I could an 
 nihilate him ; but he shall never charge me with anything un 
 derhanded. That letter was meant for your eyes only.
 
 HOPES GIVEN AND SLAIN. 473 
 
 Since it must be, God grant he proves worthy ; but his words 
 would sting me like adders." 
 
 She sprang to him, and, burying her face upon his shoul 
 der, sobbed, " Oh, Roger, I can't endure this. It's worse 
 than anything I' ve suffered yet. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, whata brute I am !" he groaned. " His letter ought 
 to have brought you happiness, but your kind heart is breaking 
 over my trouble, for I've acted like a passionate boy. Mil 
 lie, dear Millie, I will be a brave, true man, and, as I prom 
 ised you, your heart shall decide all. From this time forth 
 I am your brother, your protector, and I shall protect you 
 against yourself as truly as against others. You are not to 
 blame in the least. How could I blame you for a love that 
 took possession of your heart before you knew of my exist 
 ence, and why has not Millie Jocelyn as good a right to fol 
 low her heart as any other girl in the land ? And you shall 
 follow it. It would be dastardly meanness in me to take 
 advantage of your gratitude. Come, now, wipe your eyes, 
 and give a sister's kiss before I go. It's all right." 
 
 She yielded passively, for she was weak, nerveless, and 
 exhausted. He picked up the open letter, replaced it within 
 the envelope, and put it in her hand. " It's yours," he 
 said, " by the divine right of your love. When I come this 
 evening, don't let me see a trace of grief. I won't mope and 
 be lackadaisical, I promise," and smilingly he kissed her 
 good-by. 
 
 She sat for an hour almost without moving, and then 
 mechanically put the letter away and went on with her work. 
 She felt herself unequal to any more emotion at that time, 
 and after thinking the affair all over, determined to keep it 
 to herself, for the present at least. She knew well how bitterly 
 her father, mother, and Belle would resent the letter, and how 
 greatly it would disquiet them if they knew that her old love 
 was not dead, and seemingly could not and would not die.
 
 474 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 With the whole force of her resolute will she sought to gain 
 an outward quietude, and succeeded so well that the family 
 did not suspect anything. She both longed for and dreaded 
 Roger' s appearance, and when he came she looked at him so 
 kindly, so remorsefully, that she taxed his strength to the 
 utmost ; but he held his own manfully, and she was com 
 pelled to admit that he had never appeared so gay or so brill 
 iant before. For an hour he and Belle kept them all laugh 
 ing over their bright nonsense, and then suddenly he said, 
 " Vacation' s over ; I must begin work to-morrow, " and in 
 a moment he was gone. 
 
 ' ' Millie, ' ' cried Belle, ' ' you ought to thank your stars, 
 for you have the finest fellow in the city," and they all smiled 
 at her so brightly that she fled to her room. There Belle 
 found her a little later with red eyes, and she remarked 
 bluntly, "Well, you are a queer girl. I suppose you are 
 crying for joy, but that isn't my way." 
 
 After her sister was asleep Mildred read and re-read 
 Arnold's letter. At first she sighed and cried over it, and 
 then lapsed into a long, deep reverie. ' ' Hard as it is for 
 Roger," she thought, " he is right I am not to blame. I 
 learned to love Vinton Arnold, and permitted him to love 
 me, before I had ever seen Roger. I should have a heart of 
 stone could I resist his appeal in this letter. Here he says : 
 ' You did not answer my note last summer I fear you have 
 cast me off. I cannot blame you. After insults from my 
 mother and my own pitiful exhibitions of weakness, my 
 reason tells me that you have banished all thoughts of me in 
 anger and disgust. But, Millie, my heart will not listen to 
 reason, and cries out for you night and day. My life has 
 become an intolerable burden to me, and never in all the 
 past has there been a more unhappy exile than I. The 
 days pass like years, and the nights are worse. I am dragged 
 here and there for the benefit of my health what a miserable
 
 HOPES GIVEN AND SLAIN. 475 
 
 farce it is ! For half the money I am spending here I could 
 live happily with you, and, sustained by your love and sym 
 pathy, I might do something befitting my man' s estate. One 
 day, when I said as much to my mother, her face grew cold 
 and stern, and she replied that my views of life were as absurd 
 as those of a child ! I often wish I were dead, and were it 
 not for the thought of you I half fear that I might be tempted 
 to end my wretched existence. Of course my health suffers 
 from this constant unhappiness, repression, and humiliation. 
 The rumor has reached me that your father has become very 
 poor, and that he is in ill health. The little blood I have 
 left crimsons my face with shame that I am not at your side 
 to help and cheer you. But I fear I should be a burden to 
 you, as I am to every one else. My fainting turns one of 
 which you saw are becoming more frequent I've no hope 
 nor courage to try to get well I am just sinking under the 
 burden of my unhappy, unmanly life, and my best hope may 
 soon be to become unconscious and remain so forever. And 
 yet I fully believe that one kind word from you would in 
 spire me with the wish, the power to live. My mother is 
 blind to everything except her worldly maxims of life. She 
 means to do her duty by me, and is conscientious in her way, 
 but she is killing me by slow torture. If you would give me 
 a little hope, if you would wait oh, pardon the selfishness 
 of my request, the pitiable weakness displayed in this appeal ! 
 Yet, how can I help it ? Who can sink into absolute despair 
 without some faint struggle some effort to escape. I have 
 had the happiness of heaven in your presence, and now I am 
 as miserable as a lost soul. You have only to say that there 
 is no hope, and I will soon cease to trouble you or any one 
 much longer. ' 
 
 " How can I tell him there is no hope ?" she murmured. 
 " It would be murder it would be killing soul and body. 
 What' s more, I love him God knows I love him. My heart
 
 47 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 just yearns for him in boundless pity and sympathy, and I 
 feel almost as if he were my crippled, helpless child as well as 
 lover. It would be cruel, selfish, and unwomanly to desert 
 him because of his misfortune. I haven't the heart to do it. 
 His weakness and suffering bind me to him. His appeal to 
 me is like the cry of the helpless to God, and how can I de 
 stroy his one hope, his one chance ? He needs me more 
 than does Roger, who is strong, masterful, and has a grand 
 career before him. In his varied activities, in the realiza 
 tion of his ambitious hopes, he will overcome his present 
 feelings, and become my brother in very truth. He will 
 marry some rich, splendid girl like Miss Wetheridge by and 
 by, and I shall be content in lowly, quiet ministry to one 
 whose life and all God has put into my hands. His parents 
 treat Vinton as if he were a child ; but he has reached the age 
 when he has the right to choose for himself, and, if the worst 
 comes to the worst, I could support him myself. Feeling as 
 I do now, and as I ever shall, now that my heart has been re 
 vealed to me, I could not marry Roger. It would be wrong 
 ing him and perjuring myself. He is too grand, too strong 
 a man not to see the facts in their true light, and he will still 
 remain the best friend a woman ever had. ' ' 
 
 Then, with a furtive look at Belle to see that she was 
 sleeping soundly, she wrote : " DEAR VINTON : My heart 
 would indeed be callous and unwomanly did it not respond 
 to your letter, over which I have shed many tears. Take all 
 the hope you can from the truth that I love you, and can 
 never cease to love you. You do yourself injustice. Your 
 weakness and ill health are misfortunes for which you are not 
 responsible. So far from inspiring disgust, they awaken my 
 sympathy and deepen my affection. You do not know a 
 woman's heart at least you do not know mine. In your 
 constant love, your contempt for heartless, fashionable life, 
 and your wish to do a man's part in the world, you are manly
 
 HOPES GIVEN AND SLAIN. 477 
 
 You are right also in believing that if you lived in an at 
 mosphere of respect and affection you would so change for 
 the better that you would not recognize yourself. For my 
 sake as well as your own, try to rally, and make the most of 
 your sojourn abroad. Fix your mind steadily on some pur 
 suits or studies that will be of use to you in the future. Do 
 not fear ; I shall wait It is not in my nature to forget or 
 change." And with some reference to their misfortunes, a 
 repetition of her note which Jotham had lost, and further re 
 assuring words, she closed her letter. 
 
 " I am right," she said ; " even Roger will say I am doin% 
 right. I could not do otherwise. ' ' 
 
 Having made a copy of the letter that she might show it 
 to Roger, she at last slept, in the small hours of the night. 
 As early as possible on the following day she mailed the let 
 ter, with a prayer that it might not be too late. 
 
 A day or two later she sought a private interview with her 
 friend, and whispered, ' ' Roger, dear Roger, if you do not 
 fail me now you will prove yourself the best and bravest man 
 in the world. I am going to repose a trust in you that I 
 cannot share at present with any one else not even my 
 mother. It would only make her unhappy now that she is 
 reviving in our brighter days. It might have a bad influ 
 ence on papa, and it is our duty to shield him in every 
 way. ' ' 
 
 She told him everything, made him read the copy of her 
 letter to Arnold. "You are strong, Roger," she said in 
 conclusion, ' ' and it would kill him, and and I love him. 
 You know now how it has all come about, and it does not 
 seem in my nature to change. I have given you all I can 
 my absolute trust and confidence. I've shown you my 
 whole heart. Roger, you won't fail me. I love you so 
 dearly, I feel so deeply for you, I am so very grateful, that I 
 believe it would kill me if this should harm you. ' '
 
 478 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 He did not fail her, but even she never guessed the effort 
 he made. 
 
 " It's all right, Millie," he said with a deep breath, " and 
 I'll be a jolly bachelor for you all my life." 
 
 1 ' You must not say that, ' ' she protested. ' ' One of these 
 days I' 11 pick you out a far better wife than I could ever be. ' ' 
 
 " No," he replied decisively, " that's the one thing I 
 won' t do for you, if you picked out twenty score. ' ' 
 
 He tried to be brave he was brave ; but for weeks there 
 after traces of suffering on his face cut her to the heart, and 
 she suffered with him as only a nature like hers was capable of 
 doing. Events were near which would tax his friendship to 
 the utmost 
 
 August was passing with its intense heat. The streets of the 
 locality wherein the Jocelyns lived were shamefully neglected, 
 and the sewerage was bad. Mr. Jocelyn was one of the first 
 to surfer, and one day he was so ill from malarial neuralgia 
 that he faltered in the duties of his business. 
 
 4 ' I can' t afford to be ill, ' ' he said to himself. ' ' A slight 
 dose of morphia will carry me through the day ; surely I've 
 strength of mind sufficient to take it once or twice as a med 
 icine, and then plenty of quinine will ward off a fever, and I 
 can go on with my work without any break or loss ; mean 
 while I'll look for rooms in a healthier locality." 
 
 His conscience smote him, warned him, and yet it did 
 not seem possible that he could not take a little as a remedy, 
 as did other people. With the fatuity of a self-indulgent 
 nature he remembered its immediate relief from pain, and for 
 got the anguish it had caused. He no more proposed to re 
 new the habit than to destroy his life he only proposed to 
 tide himself over an emergency. 
 
 The drug was taken, and to his horror he found that it was 
 the same as if he had kindled a conflagration among combus 
 tibles ready for the match. His old craving asserted itself
 
 HOPES GIVEN AND SLAIN. 479 
 
 with all its former force. His will was like a straw in the 
 grasp of a giant. He writhed, and anathematized himself, but 
 soon, with the inevitableness of gravitation, went to another 
 drug store and was again enchained.* 
 
 For a few days Mr. Jocelyn tried to conceal his condition 
 from his family, but their eyes were open now, and they 
 watched him at first with alarm, then with terror. They plead 
 ed with him ; his wife went down on her knees before him ; 
 but, with curses on himself, he broke away and rushed forth, 
 driven out into the wilderness of a homeless life like a man 
 possessed with a demon. In his intolerable shame and re 
 morse he wrote that he would not return until he had regained 
 his manhood. Alas ! that day would never come. 
 
 * It is a sad fact that more than half of those addicted to the 
 opium habit relapse. The causes are varied, but the one given is 
 the most common : it is taken to bridge over some emergency or 
 to give relief from physical pain or mental distress. The infatu* 
 ated victim says, " I will take it just this once," and then he goes 
 on taking it until it destroys him. I have talked with several who 
 have given way for the second and third time, and with one physician 
 who has relapsed five times. They each had a somewhat different 
 story to tell, but the dire results were in all cases the same. After 
 one indulgence, the old fierce craving, the old fatal habit, was again 
 fixed, with more than its former intensity and binding power.
 
 480 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 WAS BELLE MURDERED? 
 
 MRS. WHEATON, Mr. Wentworth, and Roger did 
 what they could for the afflicted family, and 
 Roger spent the greater part of several nights in a vain 
 search for the absent man, but he had hidden himself too 
 securely, and was drowning reason, conscience, his entire 
 manhood, in one long debauch. The young man grew more 
 haggard than ever in his deep sympathy for his friends, for 
 they clung to him with the feeling that he only could help 
 them effectually. He begged them to move elsewhere, 
 since the odors of the place were often sickening, but they 
 all said No, for the husband and father might return, and 
 this no;* was ii.eir one hope concerning him. 
 
 In the second fall of her husband Mrs. Jocelyn seemed to 
 have received her death-wound, for she failed visibly every 
 day. 
 
 One night Belle was taken with a severe chill, and then 
 fever and delirium followed. When Roger came the ensu 
 ing evening, Mildred sobbed on his shoulder. 
 
 " Oh, Roger, my heart is paralyzed with dread. The skies 
 you were making so bright for us have become black with 
 ruin. You are the only one who brings me any hope or 
 comfort. Come with me. Look at Belle there. She 
 doesn't know any of us. For the last hour her mind has 
 wandered. Half the time she is thanking you for all that 
 you have done for us ; then she calls for papa, or is away in 
 the country. The doctor has been here, and he looked very
 
 WAS BELLE MURDERED? 481 
 
 grave. He says it's all due to the bad sanitary condition of 
 this part of the city, and that there are other cases just like 
 it. and that they are hard to manage. Why didn' t we move 
 before ? Oh, oh, oh !" and she cried as if her heart would 
 break. 
 
 "Don't grieve so, Millie," Roger faltered. "I nevei 
 could stand it to see tears in your eyes. Belle is young and 
 vigorous ; she'll pull through." 
 
 " I hope so. Oh, what should we do if she should 
 But the doctor says the fever takes a stronger hold on persons 
 of full habit like Belle, and now that I' ve made inquiries I 
 find that it has been fatal in several instances. We have been 
 so troubled about papa that we thought of nothing else, and 
 did not realize our danger. There are two cases like Belle's 
 across the way, and one in this house, and none of them are 
 expected to live." 
 
 " Millie," said Roger resolutely, " I won't even entertain 
 the thought of Belle's dying. I'm going to stay with you 
 every night until she is out of danger. I can doze here in 
 this chair, and I should be sleepless with anxiety anywhere 
 else. You must let me become a brother now in very truth. ' ' 
 
 " No, Roger, we can't permit it. You might catch the 
 fever. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Millie, I will stay. Do you think I could leave you to 
 meet this trouble alone ? I can relieve you in many ways, 
 and give you and your mother a chance for a little rest. 
 Besides, what is the fever to me ?" he added, with a touch of 
 recklessness which she understood too well. 
 
 "Roger," she said gravely, " think what your life and 
 health are to me. If you should fail me I should despair. 
 
 " I won't fail you," he replied, with a little confident nod. 
 " You will always find me on hand like a good-natured 
 dragon whenever you are in trouble. The first thing to do 
 is to send these children to the country, and out of this
 
 482 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 poisoned air," and he sat down at once and wrote to hia 
 mother and Clara Wilson, formerly Clara Bute. Then, 
 true to his word, he watched with Mildred and Mrs. Jocelyn 
 every night Frequently his hand upon the brow of the 
 delirious girl would quiet her when nothing else could, and 
 Mildred often saw his tears falling fast on the unconscious face. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson answered his letter in person. " I couldn't 
 wait a minute, ' ' she said. ' ' I went right over to Mrs. At- 
 wood's and told her that no one could have the children but 
 me, and my husband says they can stay until you want them 
 back. He is so good to me ! Dear little Belle !" she 
 sobbed, bending over the sufferer, " to think that I once so 
 misjudged you ! A better-hearted girl never breathed. As 
 soon as she's able to be moved you must bring her right to 
 me, and I'll take care of her till she's her old rosy, beautiful 
 seli No, I'll come for her. I wish I could take her in my 
 arms and carry her home now." 
 
 ' ' She often speaks of you, ' ' faltered Mildred. ' ' Indeed 
 she seems to be living all her old life over again. ' ' 
 
 The doctor looked graver every day, and at last held out 
 no hope. Late one night they saw that the crisis was near. 
 Belle was almost inanimate from weakness, and Mrs. Joce 
 lyn, Mildred, and Roger sat beside her in the large living- 
 room, into which they had moved her bed, so that if possible 
 she might get a little air air that was laden with vile, stifling 
 odors. At last the feeble tossings of the poor sufferer ceased, 
 and she looked around intelligently. Her mother kissed her, 
 and said soothingly, ' ' Sleep, dear, and you' 11 soon be better. 
 
 She shook her head, and continued to look as if in search 
 of some one, and then whispered, 
 
 ' ' Where is papa ?' ' 
 
 ' ' You are not strong enough to see him now, ' ' her mother 
 replied with pallid lips, while Mildred put her hand to her 
 side from the intolerable pain in her heart
 
 WAS BELLE MURDERED? 483 
 
 Belle lay still a few moments, and they breathed low in 
 their suspense. Her mother kept her soothing touch upon 
 her brow, while Mildred held her hand. At last two great 
 tears rolled down the poor girl's face, and she said faintly, 
 1 ' I remember now. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, Belle, darling, sleep," murmured her mother, " and 
 you will soon get well. ' ' Again she slowly shook her head. 
 " Dear little mother," she whispered, " forgive naughty 
 Belle for all her wild ways. You were always patient with 
 me. Pray God to forgive me, for I'm going fast. If He's 
 like you I won't fear Him." 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn would have fallen on her child if Roger had 
 not caught her and placed her gently on the lounge, where 
 she lay with dry, tearless eyes and all the yearnings of the 
 mother-heart in her wan face. Belle's eyes followed her 
 wistfully, then turned to Mildred. 
 
 " Good-by, Millie darling, best of sisters. You will have 
 a long happy life in spite of all. ' ' 
 
 Mildred clung to her passionately, but at Belle's faint call 
 for Roger she knelt at the bedside and looked with streaming 
 eyes on the near approach of death. 
 
 " Roger," Belle whispered, " lift me up. I want to die 
 on your breast you saved me you know. Take care Mil 
 lie mamma little ones. Don't wake them. Now tell 
 me some thing comforting out of the Bible. ' ' 
 
 ' ' ' God is not willing that one of His little ones should 
 perish,' " said the young fellow brokenly, thankful that he 
 could recall the words. 
 
 ;< That's sweet I'm one of His littlest ones. It's 
 getting very dark Roger. I know what it means. 
 Good by. We' 11 have good times together yet. ' ' 
 
 Then came that absolute stillness which he understood too 
 well. He bowed his head upon the cold brow of the dead 
 girl, and wept as only strong men weep in their first great
 
 484 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 sorrow. Mildred almost forgot her own grief in trying to 
 lead him away and to comfort him, but he clung convulsively 
 to Belle's lifeless form. At last he broke almost frantically 
 away. 
 
 " Roger, Roger," cried Mildred, " where are you going? 
 What are you going to do ?" 
 
 " I don't know I must have air or my heart will break ; 
 I'll go mad. She's just been murdered, murdered," and he 
 rushed out. 
 
 After a little while he returned, and said, " There, Millie, 
 I'm better. I won't give way again," and he took her in 
 his arms and let her cry away some of the pain in her heart. 
 
 Mrs. Jocelyn still lay upon the sofa, white as marble, and 
 with dry, dilated eyes. She was far beyond tears. 
 
 ******** 
 
 On the day following Belle's death the Hon. 
 
 sat down to a sumptuous dinner in one of the most fashion 
 able of the Saratoga hotels. A costly bottle of wine added 
 its ruddy hue to his florid complexion. The waiters were 
 obsequious, the smiling nods of recognition from other dis 
 tinguished guests of the house were flattering, and as the 
 different courses were brought on, the man became the pic 
 ture of corpulent complacence. His aspect might have 
 changed could he have looked upon the still form of the once 
 frolicsome, beautiful girl, who had been slain because he had 
 failed so criminally in fidelity to his oath of office. It would 
 not have been a pleasant task for him to estimate how much 
 of the money that should have brought cleanliness and health 
 among the tenements of the poor was being worse than 
 wasted on his own gross personality.
 
 THE FINAL CONSOLA TIONS OF OPIUM. 485 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE FINAL CONSOLATIONS OF OPIUM. 
 
 * I ""HE glowing September sun had rarely revealed a sadder 
 JL group than that which still watched beside poor Belle. 
 At last Roger looked at his watch and said, 
 
 " I will now go and see Mr. Wentworth, and bring Mrs. 
 Wheaton. ' ' 
 
 " Very well, Roger," Mildred replied, "we leave every 
 thing in your hands." 
 
 ' ' Millie, I can' t bear to have Belle placed in one of the 
 crowded city cemeteries. Would you not be willing to have 
 her sleep in our tree-shadowed graveyard at Forestville ? 
 We could keep flowers on her grave there as long as we 
 lived. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, Roger, how kind of you to think of that 1 It would 
 be such a comfort to us !" 
 
 " I will take her there myself on the evening boat," he 
 said decisively, and he hastened away feeling that he must 
 act promptly, for his aching head and limbs led him to fear 
 that Belle's fever was already in his veins. Mr. Wentworth 
 overflowed with sympathy, and hastened to the afflicted family 
 with nourishing delicacies. Mrs. Wheaton soon followed, 
 tearful and regretful. 
 
 " I didn't know," she said ; " I've 'ad aside child or T 'd 
 a been hover before. Not 'earing from you I thought hall 
 vas veil, and there's the poor dear dead, an' I might 'ave 
 done so much for 'er." 
 
 ' ' No, Mrs. Wheaton, all was done that could be done in
 
 486 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 this poisoned air. We feared you might catch the fever if 
 you came, and we knew you would come." 
 
 " Hindeed I vould, if you hall 'ad the small-pox. Now 
 I'm going to do heverything, " and she fretted at every effort 
 of the exhausted watchers to help her. 
 
 Roger telegraphed his father to meet him at the boat with 
 the village hearse. The news spread fast, and the little com 
 munity was soon deeply stirred with sympathetic interest. 
 Mrs. Jocelyn was too weak to endure the journey, and Mil 
 dred would not leave her. Therefore Mr. Wentworth held 
 a simple, heartfelt service over the one they all so loved, and 
 Roger departed on his sad errand. He was eager to get 
 away, and, if the thought of Belle had not been uppermost 
 in all minds, it would have been seen that he was far from 
 well in spite of his almost desperate efforts to hide his illness. 
 His father found him on the boat delirious with fever. The 
 old man's face was haggard and drawn as he returned to 
 Forestville with his two helpless burdens, grieving far more 
 for the one that was ill than for the one that was dead. "It's 
 turning out just as brother Ezra said, ' ' he growled. ' ' A man's 
 a fool to mix himself up with other people's troubles." The 
 interest in the village deepened into strong excitement when 
 it became known that Roger was ill with the fever that had 
 caused Belle's death, some timid ones fearing that a pesti 
 lence would soon be raging in their midst. But the great 
 majority yielded to their good impulses, and Mrs. Atwood 
 was overwhelmed with offers of assistance. Several young 
 farmers to whom Belle had given a heartache a few weeks 
 before volunteered to watch beside her until the funeral, and 
 there was a deeper ache in their hearts as they sat reverently 
 around the fair young sleeper. The funeral was a memo 
 rable one in Forestville, for the most callous heart was 
 touched by the pathos of the untimely death. 
 
 Meanwhile poor Roger was tossing in fever and muttering
 
 THE FINAL CONSOLA TIONS OF OPIUM. 487 
 
 constantly of his past life. The name, however, oftenest on 
 his lips was that of Millie Jocelyn. 
 
 Never before in all the troubled past did the poor girl so 
 need his sustaining love as on the night he left her. Mr. 
 Wentworth spent an hour with the sad mother and daughter 
 after the others had gone, and then sorrowfully departed, 
 saying that he had an engagement out of town, and that he 
 would come again immediately on his return. Mrs. Wheaton 
 had gone home, promising that she would come back in the 
 evening and spend the night with them, for she had a neigh 
 bor who would take care of the children, and so at last 
 the two stricken women were left alone. 
 
 Mildred was bathing her mother's head and trying to com 
 fort her when the door opened, and a haggard, unkempt man 
 stood before them. For a second they looked at him in 
 vague terror, for he stood in a deep shadow, and then Mrs. 
 Jocelyn cried, "Martin! Martin!" and tears came to her 
 relief at last. 
 
 He approached slowly and tremblingly. Mildred was 
 about to throw herself into his arms, but he pushed her away. 
 His manner began to fill them with a vague, horrible dread, 
 for he acted like a spectre of a man. 
 
 " Where are the children ?" he asked hoarsely. 
 
 " We have sent them to the country. Oh, papa, do be 
 kind and natural you will kill mamma." 
 
 ' ' There is crape on the door - knob, ' ' he faltered. 
 "Where's Belle?" 
 
 ''' Oh, oh, oh !" sobbed Mildred. " Papa, papa, have 
 mercy on us. Can't you sustain and help us at such a time 
 as this ?' ' 
 
 ' ' She is dead, then, ' ' he whispered, and he sank into a 
 chair as if struck down. 
 
 ' ' Yes, she' s dead. You were the first one she asked for 
 when she came out of her fever."
 
 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 tl Great God ! my punishment is greater than I can bear," 
 he groaned. 
 
 "Oh, Martin," pleaded his wife, "come to me," and 
 too weak to rise from her couch she held out her arms to 
 him. 
 
 He looked at her with a remorse and agony in his expres 
 sion that were indescribable. "No, Nan," he said, "I'm 
 not fit for you to touch now. F m murdering you all, ' ' and 
 he went hastily to his room and locked the door. 
 
 They waited, scarcely breathing in their deep apprehension. 
 
 In a few moments he came out, and his face was rigid and 
 desperate in its aspect. In spite of his repelling gesture Mil 
 dred clasped him in her arms. The embrace seemed to tor 
 ture him. "Let me go!" he cried, breaking away. "I 
 poison the very air I breathe. You both are like angels of 
 heaven and I O God ! But the end has come, ' ' and he 
 rushed out into the gathering darkness. Mrs. jocelyn tried 
 to follow him, and fell prostrate with a despairing cry on the 
 floor. 
 
 Mildred's first impulse was to restore her mother, without 
 seeking help, in the faint hope that her father would re 
 turn, for she had learned what strange alternations of mood 
 opium produces ; but as the sense of his words grew clearer 
 she was overpowered, and trembled so violently that she was 
 compelled to call to her help a neighbor a plain, good- 
 hearted woman who lived on the same floor. When aflast 
 Mrs. Jocelyn revived she murmured piteously, 
 
 " Oh, Millie, why didn't you let me die ?" 
 
 " Mamma," pleaded the girl, " how can you even- think 
 of leaving me ?" 
 
 " Millie, Millie darling, I fear I must. My heart feels as 
 if it were bleeding internally. Millie" and she grasped her 
 child's shoulder convulsively, " Millie, look in his room for 
 for his pistol."
 
 THE FINAL CON SO LA TIONS OF OPIUM. 489 
 
 " Oh, mamma, mamma !" 
 
 " Look, look !" said her mother excitedly. " I can't bear 
 the suspense. ' ' 
 
 Thinking that her mother was a little hysterical, and that 
 compliance would quiet her, Mildred went to the place where 
 her father always kept his cavalry revolver the one memento 
 left of his old heroic army life. // was gone I 
 
 She almost sank to the floor in terror, nor did she dare 
 return to her mother. 
 
 "Millie, Millie, quick!" came in a faint cry from the 
 outer room. 
 
 The poor girl rushed forward and buried her face in her 
 mother's bosom, sobbing, " Mamma, oh mamma, live for 
 my sake. ' ' 
 
 ' c I knew it, I knew it, ' ' said the stricken wife, with a long 
 low cry. " I saw it in his desperate face. Oh, Martin, 
 Martin, we will die together !" 
 
 She clasped Mildred tightly, trembled convulsively a 
 moment, and then her arms fell back, and she was as still aa 
 poor Belle had been. 
 
 " Oh, mamma !" Mildred almost shrieked, but she was fa 
 beyond recall, and the suffering heart was at rest. 
 
 When the woman returned with the cup of tea she had gone 
 to prepare for Mrs. Jocelyn, she found the young girl leaning 
 forward unconscious on the bosom of the dead mother. 
 
 When she revived it was only to moan and wring her hands 
 in despair. Mrs. Wheaton soon appeared, and having 
 learned what had happened she threw her apron over her 
 head and rocked back and forth in her strong sympathetic 
 grief. But her good heart was not long content with tears* 
 and she took Mildred into her arms and said, 
 
 " I vill be a mother to you, and you shall never vant a 
 'ome vile I 'ave von," and the motherless girl cluug to her 
 in a way that did the kind soul a world of good.
 
 49 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Before the evening was very far advanced a boy brought a 
 note to the door. Mildred seized it and asked, 
 
 "Who gave it to you?" 
 
 "I don't know a man. He pointed to this door, and 
 then he went away very fast ' ' 
 
 She tore it open, and read in horror : " My darling wife, 
 dear beyond all words in these my final despairing moments. 
 My love for you and those left is the only trace of good re 
 maining in my heart. I die for your sakes. My continued 
 existence would be a curse, for I have lost my manhood. I 
 am possessed by a devil that I can' t control. I cannot ask 
 you to forgive me. I can never forgive myself. Farewell. 
 After I am gone, brighter days will come to you all. Pity 
 me if you can, forgive me if you can, and remember me as I 
 was before ' ' And there the terrible missive ended. 
 
 For an hour the girl lay moaning as if in mortal pain, and 
 then the physician who was summoned gave her a sedative 
 which made her sleep long and heavily. It was quite late 
 in the morning when she awoke, and the events that had 
 passed first came to her like a horrid dream, and then grew 
 into terrible reality. But she was not left to meet the 
 emergency alone, for Mrs. Wheaton and Clara Wilson 
 watched beside her. The latter in her strong sympathy had 
 come to the city to take Mildred and her mother to the coun 
 try, and she said to Mrs. Wheaton that she would now never 
 leave her friend until she was in the breezy farm-house. 
 
 After a natural outburst of grief Mildred again proved that 
 Arnold's estimate of her was correct. She was equal to even 
 this emergency, for she eventually grew quiet and resolute. 
 " I must find papa," she said. 
 
 " Shall I ?" Mrs. Wilson asked Mrs. Wheaton significantly. 
 
 " Yes, Millie is more hof a soldier than hany hof us." 
 
 "Well," continued Mrs. Wilson, " Mrs. Wheaton found 
 this in the morning paper : ' An unknown man committed
 
 THE FINAL CONSOLA TIONS OF OPIUM. 491 
 
 suicide on the steps of No. 73 Street. His remains 
 
 have been taken to the Morgue for identification. ' ' 
 
 For a few moments Mildred so trembled and looked so 
 crushed that they feared for her exceedingly. ' ' Poor papa !" 
 she moaned, " he was just insane from remorse and opium. 
 
 Seventy-three Street ! Why, that was the house in 
 
 which we used to live. It was there that papa spent his first 
 happy years in this city, and it was there he went to die. Oh, 
 how dreadful, how inexpressibly sad it all is ! What shall we 
 do?" 
 
 " Leave hall to me," said Mrs. Wheaton. " Mrs. Wil 
 son, you stay ' ere with the poor dear, an ' I' 11 hattend to hevery- 
 thing." 
 
 Mildred was at last too overpowered to do more than lie 
 on the lounge, breathing in long tremulous sighs. 
 
 Mrs. Wheaton went at once to the Morgue and found that 
 the " unknown man" was indeed Mr. Jocelyn, and yet he 
 had so changed, and a bullet-hole in his temple had given him 
 such a ghastly appearance, that it was difficult to realize that 
 he was the handsome, courtly gentleman who had first brought 
 his beautiful daughter to the old mansion. 
 
 Mrs. Wheaton represented to the authorities that he was 
 very poor, that his daughter was an orphan and overcome 
 with grief, and that she now was the nearest friend of the 
 afflicted girl. Her statement was accepted, and then with 
 her practical good sense she attended to everything. 
 
 During her absence Mildred had sighed, " Oh, I do so 
 wish that Roger Atwood were here ! He gives me hope and 
 courage when no one else can. ' ' 
 
 " Millie," said Mrs. Wilson tearfully, "for his sake you 
 must rally and be braver than you have ever been before. I 
 think his life now depends upon you. He has the fever, and 
 in his delirium he calls for you constantly." 
 
 At first Mrs. Wilson thought the shock of her tidings would
 
 492 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 be more disastrous to the poor girl, already so unnerved and 
 exhausted, than all the terrible events which had thus far 
 occurred. ' ' I have brought him nothing but suffering and 
 misfortune," she cried. "He gave up everything for us, 
 and now we may cost him his life. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Millie, he is not dead, and you, if any one, can bring 
 him life. ' ' 
 
 She had touched the right chord, for the young girl soon 
 became quiet and resolute. " He never failed me," she 
 said in a low voice, " and I won't fail him." 
 
 " That is the right way to feel," said Mrs. Wilson eagerly. 
 " I now think that everything depends on your courage and 
 fortitude. Mrs. Wheaton and I have planned it all out. 
 We'll go to Forestville on the evening boat, and take your 
 father's and mother's remains with us." 
 
 Mrs. Wheaton learned from the undertaker connected with 
 Mr. Wentworth's chapel that the clergyman would not be 
 back until evening, and she told the former to tell their pas 
 tor all that had occurred, and to ask him to keep the circum 
 stances of Mr. Jocelyn's death as quiet as possible. 
 
 The man was discreet and energetic, and they were all so 
 expeditious that the evening saw them with their sad freight 
 on the way to Forestville, the keys of Mildred's rooms hav 
 ing been left with the kind woman who had befriended her 
 in the sudden and awful emergency. Mrs. Wheaton parted 
 from Mildred as if she were her own child, and went mourn 
 fully back to her busy, useful life. Mr. and Mrs. Jocelyn 
 were buried with a quiet, simple service beside poor Belle, 
 and sensible .Mrs. Wilson soon inspired the good-hearted vil 
 lage people with the purpose to spare the feelings of the 
 stricken girl in every possible way. Mildred caressed her 
 little brother and sister with the tenderness of a mother added 
 to her sisterly affection, and she was comforted to see how 
 much they had already improved in the pure country air.
 
 THE FINAL CONSOLATIONS OF OPIUM. 493 
 
 " Oh, Clara," she said, " what a friend you have been to 
 me! God alone can repay you." 
 
 "Millie," Mrs. Wilson earnestly replied, "I owe you a 
 debt I can never pay. I owe you and darling Belle happi 
 ness and prosperity for this life, and my hope of the life to 
 come. My husband is strong and prosperous, and he says I 
 shall do all that' s in my heart for you. Oh, Millie, he is so 
 good to me, and he cried over Belle like a child. I thought 
 I loved him before, but when I saw those tears I just wor 
 shipped him. He has a man's heart, like Roger. Now, 
 Millie, I'm going to keep these children as long as you'll 
 let me, and treat them as my own. I feel that the promise 
 has been given to me that they' 11 grow up to be a great com 
 fort to us both." 
 
 On the evening after the funeral Mildred went to aid in 
 the care of Roger, and Mrs. Atwood greeted her with all the 
 warmth and tenderness that a daughter would have received. 
 Even Mr. Atwood drew his sleeve across his eyes as he said, 
 ' ' If you' 11 help us save our boy, you' 11 find that I' m not as 
 crabbed and crooked a stick as I seem. ' ' 
 
 Mildred was shocked and her heart chilled with fear at the 
 change in Roger, but her hand upon his brow and her voice 
 did more to quiet him than all the physician' s remedies. 
 She became his almost tireless watcher, and she said hope 
 fully that the bracing autumn winds rustled around the farm 
 house like the wings of ministering angels, and that they 
 would bring life and health to the fever-stricken man. They 
 all wondered at her endurance, for while she looked so frail 
 she proved herself so strong. At last the crisis came, as it 
 had in Belle's case, but instead of waking to die he passed 
 from delirium into a quiet sleep, Mildred holding his hand, 
 and when he opened his eyes with the clear glance of intelli 
 gence, they first looked upon her dear face. ' ' Millie, ' ' he 
 whispered.
 
 494 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 She put her fingers upon her lips, smiled, and said, " I 
 won't leave you if you will be good and do all I say. You 
 never failed me yet, Roger, and you must not now." 
 
 " I'll surely get well if you stay with me, Millie, ' ' he 
 answered contentedly, and soon he slept again as quietly as 
 a child.
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 495 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 OUR story passes rapidly over the events of the ensuing 
 months. In his native mountain air, and under the 
 impulse of his strong, unbroken constitution, Roger recovered 
 rapidly and steadily. As soon as he was strong enough he 
 went to the village cemetery, and, leaning his head on Belle's 
 grave, sobbed until Mildred led him away. For a long time 
 tears would come into his eyes whenever the names of Mrs. 
 Jocelyn and the young girl he loved so fondly were men 
 tioned. He and Mildred planted the sacred place thick 
 with roses and spring-flowering bulbs. 
 
 Mildred resisted all entreaties to remain in the country 
 saying that she was a city girl at heart, and that, with Mr. 
 Wentworth's aid, she could easily earn her livelihood in 
 town, and do- much for Fred and Minnie. Moreover, she 
 felt that she could not be parted from Roger, for seemingly 
 he had become an inseparable part of her life. The experi 
 ences he had shared with her were developing within him a 
 strong and noble manhood, and he vowed that the young 
 girl who had known so much sorrow should have all the 
 happiness that he could bring to pass. 
 
 When Mrs. Wheaton learned of Mildred's purpose to re 
 turn to town, she took more commodious apartments in the 
 old mansion, and set apart a room for the young girl. She 
 also sold most of her own things and took Mildred' s furniture 
 out of storage, so that the place might seem familiar and 
 homelike to her friend.
 
 49 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 When Roger had almost recovered his wonted health, Mrs. 
 Atwood told her husband that he must go with her to visit 
 his brother in town, for the worthy woman had a project on 
 her mind which she carried out with characteristic directness 
 and simplicity. 
 
 They surprised Mr. and Mrs. Ezra Atwood at breakfast, 
 and partook of the cheer offered them rather grimly and 
 silently. After the meal was over Roger's mother said, with 
 out any circumlocution, 
 
 " Brother-in-law, I've come to have a plain, honest talk 
 with you, and if you' re a true Atwood you' 11 listen to me. 
 I want your wife and my husband to be present. We are 
 nigh of kin, but we are forgetting ties which the Lord hath 
 ordained. Ezra, I believe you are a good man at heart, but, 
 like my husband, you set too much store by things that per 
 ish in the using. My boy has taught me that there are bet 
 ter things in this world, and we' 11 all soon be where we may 
 look on money as a curse. You have not spoken to my son 
 since last spring, and you've been cold toward us. I want 
 you to know the truth, and realize what you're doing ; then 
 if you go on in this way, you must settle it with your own 
 conscience ;" and with a homely pathos all her. own she told 
 the whole story. 
 
 The uncle at first tried to be grim and obstinate, but he 
 soon broke down completely. "I'm glad you've come," 
 he said huskily. ' ' My conscience hasn' t given me any peace 
 for months, and I wanted to give in, but you know that it's 
 like drawing an eye-tooth for an Atwood to give in. I'm 
 proud of the boy, and he' 11 be a blessing to us all. He is a 
 new departure in the family ; he's got more brains than any 
 of us, and with it all a big, brave heart. He shall marry the 
 girl if he wants to ; and now that her old wretch of a father is 
 dead, no harm need come of it. But they' re young ; they 
 must wait until Roger is educated up to the best of 'em.
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 497 
 
 Well, now that I've given in, there shall be no half-way 
 work," and he insisted on sending for his lawyer and making 
 his will in Roger's favor at once. 
 
 "I didn't come for any such purpose as this," said 
 Roger's mother, wiping her eyes, while his father could 
 scarcely conceal his exultation ; ' ' but I felt that it was time 
 for us to stop living like heathen, ' ' and after a visit of a very 
 different nature from the one they had feared, the worthy 
 couple returned to Forestville well content with the results of 
 their expedition. 
 
 Roger was jubilant over the news, and he hastened to im 
 part it to Mildred, who was spending the remaining weeks of 
 her sojourn in the country with her friend Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 "Millie," he said, "you shall never want again. My 
 good fortune would be nothing to me unless I shared it with 
 you." 
 
 But she disappointed him by saying, " No, Roger, you 
 must let me live the independent life that my nature re 
 quires," and the only concession that he could obtain from 
 her was a promise to receive his aid should any emergency 
 require it. 
 
 Before Mildred's return a letter from Vinton Arnold was 
 forwarded to her at Forestville, and it must be admitted that 
 it gave her sad heart something like a thrill of happiness. It 
 was an eloquent and grateful outpouring of affection, and 
 was full of assurances that she had now given him a chance 
 for life and happiness. 
 
 When she told Roger, he looked very grim for a moment, 
 
 and then by a visible effort brightened up and said, " It's all 
 
 right, Millie." After pacing the room for a few moments 
 
 with a contracted brow, he continued, " Millie, you must 
 
 ~v.nt me one request you must not say anything to Arnold 
 
 t me." 
 
 ' jw can I say anything then about myself ?' ' she an-
 
 498 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 swered. ' ' I want him to know that I owe everything to you, 
 and I hope to see the day when you will be the closest of 
 friends. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Well, that will be a good way on. I must see him first, 
 and learn more about him ; and well, friends related as 
 Arnold will be to me are not common. I've too much of 
 the old untamed man in me to go readily into that kind of 
 thing. I will do anything in the world for you, but you 
 must not expect much more till I have a few gray hairs in my 
 head. Come, now, you must humor me a little in this affair ; 
 you can say generally that some friends were kind, and all 
 that, without much personal reference to me. If you should 
 write as you propose, he might be jealous, or worse yet 
 write me a letter of thanks. It may prevent complications, 
 and will certainly save me some confoundedly disagreeable 
 experiences. After I've seen him and get more used to it all, 
 I may feel differently. ' ' 
 
 " You certainly will, Roger. Your life will gradually be 
 come so rich, full, and happy, that some day you will look 
 back in wonder at your present feelings. " 
 
 ' ' Life will be full enough if work can make it so ; but you 
 must not expect me to outgrow this. It will strengthen with 
 my years. It's my nature as well as yours. But I foresee 
 how it will be," he continued despondently ; " I shall in 
 evitably be pushed farther and farther into the background. 
 In your happy home life " 
 
 Before he could utter another word Mildred was sobbing 
 passionately. ' ' Roger, ' ' she cried, ' ' don' t talk that way. 
 I can't bear it. If Vinton is jealous of you, if he fails in 
 manly appreciation of you, I will never marry him. Strong 
 as my love is for him, such a course would destroy it 
 There are certain kinds of weakness that I can't and won't 
 tolerate." 
 
 He was surprised and deeply touched, for her manner was
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 499 
 
 usually so quiet and well controlled that even he was at times 
 tempted to forget how strong and passionate was her nature 
 on occasions sufficient to awaken it " There, Millie, 
 I've hurt your feelings," he said remorsefully. " Even I do 
 not half understand your good, kind heart. Well, you must 
 have patience with me. When the right time comes my 
 deeds will satisfy you, I think, though my words are now so 
 unpromising. But please don't deny me don't say any 
 thing about me until I give you permission. What has 
 occurred between us is sacred to me it's our affair." 
 
 ' ' Very well, if you so wish it ; but never even think again 
 that you will ever be less to me than you are now." 
 
 Nevertheless he went sadly away, saying to himself, " She's 
 sincere, Heaven knows, but what I said will be true in spite 
 of her best intentions. ' ' 
 
 The next day, after many farewells and an hour spent 
 beside Belle's grave, Roger returned to the city, far better pre 
 pared for life's battle than when he first left his native village. 
 Two or three days later Mildred followed him, accompanied 
 by Mrs. Wilson, who was determined to see her safely settled 
 in Mrs. Wheaton's care. Pain and pleasure were almost 
 equally blended in Mildred's experience as she looked upon 
 the furniture and the one or two pictures that had escaped 
 their poverty all of which were so inseparable, in their asso 
 ciations, from those who were gone, yet never absent long 
 from memory. But the pleasure soon got the better of the 
 pain, for she did not wish to forget. Mrs. Wheaton's welcome 
 was so hearty as to be almost overpowering, and when Roger 
 appeared in the evening with a beautiful picture for her walls 
 she smiled as she once thought she never could smile again. 
 Mr. Wentworth also called, and was so kind and sympa 
 thetic that the young girl felt that she was far from friendless. 
 " I so managed it," he whispered in parting, " that there 
 was little public reference to your father's sad end. Now,
 
 500 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Millie, turn your thoughts toward the future. Let Roger 
 make you happy. Believe me, he's pure gold." 
 
 " Just what poor Belle said," she thought sighingly after 
 he had gone. " I must disappoint them all. But Roger 
 will help me out. He deserves a far better wife than poor 
 shamed, half-crushed Millie Jocelyn can ever make him, and 
 he shall have her, too, for he is much too young and strong 
 not to get over all this before many years elapse. 
 
 Life soon passed into a peaceful, busy routine. Roger was 
 preparing himself for the junior class in college under the 
 best of tutors, and his evenings, spent with Mildred, were 
 usually prefaced by a brisk walk in the frosty air. Then he 
 either read aloud to her or talked of what was Greek to good- 
 natured Mrs. Wheaton, who sat knitting in a corner discreetly 
 blind and deaf. Unknown to Mildred, he was able to aid her 
 very efficiently, for he taxed Mrs. Wentworth's ingenuity in 
 the invention of all kinds of delicate fancy work, and that 
 good lady, in the most business-like manner, gave the orders 
 to Mildred, who thought that, considering the hard times, 
 she was wonderfully prosperous. 
 
 Twice during the winter she went with Roger to Forest- 
 ville, and she had her little brother and sister spend the Christ 
 mas week with her. It was the brightest experience the little 
 people ever remembered, although, unnoted by them, Mil 
 dred, with sad memories that do not belong to childhood, 
 often wiped bitter tears from her eyes as she recalled the ter 
 rible events of the preceding holiday season. She became 
 an efficient ally of Mr. Wentworth, and was almost as glad 
 to aid him, in return for his stanch friendship, as the cause 
 he represented. 
 
 She and Vinton Arnold maintained quite a regular corre 
 spondence, and the fact occasioned the young man more 
 than one stormy scene. His mother saw Mildred's letter be 
 fore he received it, and the effect of the missive upon him, in
 
 MOTHER AND SON. S O1 
 
 spite of his efforts at concealment, were so marked that she 
 at once surmised the source from which it came. The fact 
 that a few words from Mildred had done more for the invalid 
 than all the expensive physicians and the many health resorts 
 they had visited would have led most mothers to query 
 whether the secret of good health had not been found. Mrs. 
 Arnold, on the contrary, was only angered and rendered 
 more implacable than ever against the girl. She wrote to her 
 husband, however, to find out what he could about her fam 
 ily, believing that the knowledge might be useful. Mr. 
 Arnold merely learned the bare facts that the Jocelyns had 
 become greatly impoverished, that they were living in low 
 tenements, that the father had become a wretched sot, and, 
 worse than all, that the girl herself had been in a station- 
 house, although he believed she was proved innocent of the 
 charge against her. He therefore wrote to his wife that the 
 correspondence must cease at once, since it might involve 
 the family in disgrace certainly in disgraceful associations. 
 He also wrote to his son to desist, under the penalty of his 
 heaviest displeasure. With an expression of horror on her 
 face, Mrs. Arnold showed this letter to her son. In vain he 
 tried to protest that not one evil thing against Mildred could 
 be proved ; that she was innocence and purity itself ; that her 
 misfortunes and the wrong of others were no reason for de 
 sertion on his part His mother for once lost her frigid 
 politeness. " What !" she almost screamed, "do you think 
 we would ever let that horrid creature bear our name ? A 
 woman who has been in a prison cell, and mixed up with the 
 vilest and lowest people in the city, should not even be named 
 in my presence. ' ' 
 
 Her son gave her a strange, vindictive look. ' ' You un 
 natural mother," he muttered between his teeth, "thus to 
 speak of the girl to whom your son has given his best love, and 
 who is worthy of it !" and he turned on his heel and left her.
 
 50-2 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Mrs. Arnold became somewhat hysterical, and wrote home 
 that she believed that Vinton was losing his mind. She soon 
 learned, however, that she would have no ground for such a 
 charge, although her son was becoming greatly changed. 
 His politeness to her was scrupulous to a nicety, but was un 
 relenting in its icy coldness. At the same time she knew that 
 he was continuing the correspondence, and she saw, too, 
 that he was making the most studied and careful effort to 
 gain in physical strength. One day she began to upbraid him 
 bitterly for his disobedience, but he interrupted her by saying 
 sternly, 
 
 ' ' Madam, there is no child present I treat you with re 
 spect. I also demand respect." 
 
 The proud, resolute woman admitted to herself that his 
 management was becoming a difficult and dubious problem, 
 and at last, discouraged and exasperated by the unwavering 
 steadfastness of his course and manner, she wrote that they 
 might as well return home, for ' ' he was beyond her influ 
 ence. ' ' 
 
 Therefore, thrilling with glad expectation, Arnold found 
 himself in his native city much sooner than he had expected. 
 He had no very definite plans. If he could only become 
 sufficiently well to earn his own livelihood the future would 
 be comparatively clear. If this were impossible, his best 
 hope was to wait, secure in Mildred' s faith, for the chances of 
 the future, believing that his father might relent if his mother 
 would not. For this event, however, the outlook was un 
 promising. Mr. Arnold was incensed by his wife's fuller 
 account of his son's behavior, and the proof she had obtained, 
 in spite of his precautions, that he was in frequent corre 
 spondence with Mildred. Mr. Arnold had since learned the 
 circumstances of Mr. Jocelyn's wretched death, and that Mil 
 dred was but a sewing girl, living with an ignorant English 
 woman in a dilapidated old tenement, and his bitter revolt at
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 503 
 
 the whole affair was quite natural in view of his superficial 
 inquiries and knowledge. Both he and his wife judged from 
 their proud and worldly standpoint solely, and therefore 
 on the day following Vinton's arrival they summoned him 
 to a private interview. At first Mr. Arnold proposed to reason 
 with his son, but the cold, unyielding face soon so irritated 
 him that he became almost violent in his anger. After he 
 and his mother had nearly exhausted themselves, Vinton said 
 quietly, 
 
 ' ' Now that you have both lectured and threatened me as 
 if I were a boy, I would like to ask one question. Have I 
 ever disgraced you yet ?" 
 
 The husband and wife looked at each other, and were not 
 a little perplexed how to meet this passive resistance. In 
 the same low, incisive tones, Vinton continued, ' ' If you pro 
 pose to turn me into the streets for loving Miss Jocelyn, do 
 so at once, for I do love her, and I shall ever love her." 
 
 " She shall not touch a penny of our money," said Mrs. 
 Arnold, with an implacable look. 
 
 " With me," replied her son, with the same old vindictive 
 glance, " it is not a question of pennies, but of life and death. 
 I feel toward Miss Jocelyn as I suppose my father once felt 
 toward you, although what heart you had to win I cannot 
 understand from your manner toward me. I have seen con 
 siderable of society, but have never met a woman who could 
 compare with Mildred Jocelyn in all that constitutes a true 
 lady. I shall not waste any words concerning the virtues of 
 her heart upon such unsympathetic listeners, but I am at 
 least a man in years, and have the right to love her." 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said Mrs. Arnold angrily, " there is no 
 law which can prevent your disgracing yourself and us." 
 
 ' ' Nor is there any law or gospel, madam, for your un 
 natural, unsympathetic course toward your own flesh and 
 blood. Good-evening. ' '
 
 504 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Now you see how strange and infatuated he has be 
 come," she said to her husband alter her son's departure ; 
 but the old merchant shook his head in trouble and per 
 plexity. 
 
 " We have been too hard upon him, I fear," he said. 
 
 1 ' If you weaken in this matter, I shall not, ' ' she answered 
 decisively. "If he gives way to this folly, both I and my 
 children will disown all kith and kin." 
 
 "Well, well," he replied impatiently, " it will have to 
 be so, I suppose ; but nevertheless I believe we have been 
 too hard with him."
 
 A FA TAL ERROR. 5S 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 A FATAL ERROR. 
 
 THE next morning Arnold started out to visit the one 
 rarely absent from his thoughts. It was a lovely day 
 in the latter part of June, and his heart grew glad and hope 
 ful in spite of the discouraging conditions of his lot All 
 the world could not prevent his loving Mildred, or destroy 
 her faith, and at some time and in some way they would at 
 tain their happiness. These hopes were like the bright sum 
 mer sun, and he walked with a firmer and more elastic tread 
 than he had ever known before. 
 
 When he reached the haggard old mansion his heart mis 
 gave him. " Can it be reality," he asked himself, " that 
 she has been living in places like this ?' ' and the half-defined 
 fear entered his mind that she might have changed somewhat 
 with her fortunes, and might no longer be in appearance the 
 delicate, refined, beautiful girl that he had left so long since. 
 But his impatient heart gave him no time for such imaginings, 
 and he hastened to gratify his intense desire to look upon 
 her face. 
 
 In response to a low knock Mildred opened the door, and 
 found herself in the arms of her lover. Then he held her 
 off and looked at her earnestly. " Oh, Millie !" he ex 
 claimed, ' ' you have only grown more beautiful, more 
 womanly in these long, weary years. Your face is the reflex 
 of the letters on which I have lived, and which gave me the 
 power to live. ' '
 
 $o6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Then in the excess of his joy he sank into a chair, and, 
 putting his hand upon his heart, looked very pale. She 
 sprang to his side in alarm. " Don't worry, Millie," he 
 said, taking her hand. " It's passing. I don't have them 
 very often now. I' m much better, thanks to you. Happi 
 ness rarely kills. 
 
 It was well that Mrs. Wheaton and the children were out 
 This scene would have been a great shock to the good 
 woman, for she was Roger's ally, heart and soul, and did 
 not even know of Arnold's existence. Since Arnold and 
 Mildred were so fortunate as to be alone, they talked frankly 
 over their old happy days, and as far as she could without 
 breaking her promise to Roger, Mildred spoke cf the deep 
 sorrows which had almost overwhelmed her during his absence. 
 
 " How my heart aches for you !" Arnold said. " I never 
 realized before what sad experiences you have passed through. 
 The part which I can' t endure is that I have been of no help 
 to you. On the contrary, you reached out this little hand and 
 saved me. Everything has been just the opposite of what it 
 ought to have been, and even now in these surroundings you 
 are like a diamond in a dust-heap. Oh, how different it 
 would all be if I had my way !" and he in turn told her quite 
 frankly how he was situated. 
 
 " Vinton," she said earnestly, " you must do all in your 
 power to grow strong and make a place for yourself in the 
 world. As you say, I cannot punish you for the pride and 
 hostility of your parents ; I don't think of them, and I could 
 never take any favors at their hands. As a man you have the 
 right to choose for yourself, and can do so while maintaining 
 the umost courtesy and respect toward your family. I don't 
 fear poverty I'm used to it. The thing for you to do is to 
 find some honest work that won' t tax you too greatly, and 
 gain strength in its performance." 
 
 ' ' Oh, Millie, how strong and true you are ! I will take
 
 A FATAL ERROR. 57 
 
 your advice in this as in all respects. But we shall have to 
 wait a long time, I fear. I have so little knowledge of busi 
 ness, and I think my father, influenced by my mother, will 
 thwart rather than help me." 
 
 "Very well, I can wait," she answered smilingly. 
 " Indeed I'd rather wait." 
 
 Now that her happiness seemed assured, however, she 
 sighed over Roger so often and remorsefully that at last 
 Arnold said, 
 
 " You have some trouble on your mind, Millie ?" 
 
 ' ' You must not expect to find me a light-hearted girl any 
 more," she replied evasively. 
 
 " Well," he said, as he clasped her closely in farewell, 
 ' ' my every waking thought shall now be how best to banish 
 sighs and bring smiles." 
 
 That evening, while they were out for a walk, Mildred 
 said to Roger, with a little tremor in her voice, " He's 
 come. ' ' 
 
 He gave her a swift look, and then he turned as quickly 
 away, but his arm grew rigid under her hand. 
 
 ' ' Don' t fail me, Roger, ' ' she pleaded. 
 
 " It's unexpected I wasn't prepared," he said, in a low 
 tone, and then he was silent. He felt her hand trembling so 
 greatly that he soon mastered himself for her sake. " It's all 
 right, Millie," he said heartily. " Be just as happy as you 
 can. ' ' 
 
 ' ' How can I be truly happy when you are not ?' ' she 
 sighed. 
 
 " Bless your kind heart ! do you think I am going to 
 stand off and lower at your happiness like a black cloud ? 
 Do you think I'm going to droop, look forlorn and de 
 serted, and. heave great sighs in dark corners? By all the 
 powers ! if I were capable of such meanness toward you, I'd 
 whip myself worse than I did that fellow Bissel. ' '
 
 508 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 ' ' Do you think I' 11 feel for you any the less because you ' 
 are so good and brave about it ?' ' 
 
 " Oh, confound it !" he said impatiently, " you must not 
 feel too much. Spoiling your happiness won't do me any 
 good ; it would just make me savage." 
 
 She leaned her head for a second against his shoulder and 
 said, "I'm not a bit afraid of you, Roger. ' ' 
 
 'There, Millie," he said quietly, "you always get the 
 better of the old Satan in me, but I sometimes feel as if I 
 could more easily tame a whole menagerie than my own 
 nature. Come to think of it, it's all turning out for the best. 
 To-morrow I go home on quite a long vacation. Father isn' t 
 very well this summer, and I' m to take charge of the harvest 
 for him." 
 
 " Isn't this plan a little sudden ?" she asked. 
 
 " Not more so than your news," he replied grimly. 
 
 " Are you not willing to meet him yet ?" 
 
 " Not quite. After a few weeks in the fields I shall come 
 back with the stoicism and appearance of a wild Indian. 
 Come, Millie, I said I wouldn't fail you, nor shall I. Leave 
 it all to me. I will explain to Mrs. Wheaton to-night, and to 
 our other friends when the right time comes, and I will make 
 it appear all right to them. If I justify you, they should have 
 nothing to say. And now you have nothing to do but ac 
 cept your happiness and make the most of it. I still request 
 that you do not speak of me to Arnold except in a casual 
 way. When we meet you can introduce me simply as a 
 friend who was kind during your troubles. I' 11 soon know 
 after we meet whether we can get on together, and if wt 
 can' t it will save complications for you as well as myself. 
 You must let me serve you in my own way, and I think my 
 judgment will be better than yours in this matter." 
 
 She was silent for a few moments, and by the light of a 
 lamp he saw that her eyes were full of tears. " Roger," she
 
 A FA TAL ERROR. 509 
 
 said softly after a while, ' ' I sometimes think that my affec 
 tion for you is greater than my love for Vinton, but it is so 
 different. It seems almost like my religion. You are a 
 refuge for me, no matter what happens. ' ' 
 
 " Thank you, Millie, but I don't deserve such honor." 
 
 Mrs. Wheaton could not be brought to look at the situ 
 ation as Roger did, and she accepted the fact of Vinton 
 Arnold with but a grim acquiescence, which was not mollified 
 by the young man's manner toward her. While meaning to 
 be very kind and polite, he was unconsciously patronizing. 
 She belonged to a class with which he had never had much 
 to do, and in his secret soul he chafed at her presence and 
 her relations to Mildred. While in the abstract he might 
 say that Mildred's associations made no difference to him, 
 he could not in fact overcome his lifelong prejudices, and 
 Mildred's surroundings were not at all to his taste. Luxury 
 and the absence of all that was rude and coarse had become 
 essential to him, and Mrs. Wheaton' s cockney English and 
 homely life often gave him cold chills. 
 
 Mildred in one respect disappointed him also, for she 
 would take ho aid from him, and would in no way deviate 
 from her retired, independent life. " Even if my feelings 
 and principles were not involved," she said, " good taste 
 requires that I conform to my circumstances." 
 
 She would take such quiet walks with him as his strength 
 permitted, but would visit no places of public resort. In 
 view of his family's hostility to his course, Arnold did not so 
 much regret this, and so it came about that they spent many 
 of their evenings on the platform over the roof, with the old 
 German astronomer, star-gazing and oblivious, not far away. 
 
 While Mildred maintained her loyalty to her old friends, 
 and her resolute plainness and simplicity of life, she consid 
 erately recognized that it was all so foreign to her lover's pre 
 vious experience that she could not expect him to feel as she
 
 Sio WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 did. Moreover, his presence renewed her old love for the re 
 fined and beautiful, and her heart, that had been so sad and 
 preoccupied, awoke at last to the truth that she was out of 
 her sphere an exile far from the world her nature craved. 
 Arnold seemed an inseparable part of that old world of beauty 
 and elegance. His every act and word brought it back, and 
 it caused a deepening regret that he was compelled to seek 
 her in her present situation ; therefore she also began to 
 share his ill-concealed wish that she might soon escape. 
 Honestly as she loved Mrs. Wheaton, and would love her 
 for all her kindness, the good woman's talk and ways often 
 jarred discordantly on her nerves. Arnold soon discovered 
 this fact, and it made him very impatient over the prospect 
 of life long continued under its present aspects. He was 
 conscious of Mrs. Wheaton' s latent hostility, and he had 
 not the tact to conciliate her, nor indeed did he make very 
 great effort to do so. Mildred was very sorry for this, but 
 did not blame him greatly, for she knew her plain old friend 
 could never be to him what she was to those who had learned 
 her goodness and worth in emergencies that had levelled all 
 external differences. 
 
 But in spite of the ingredients brought by these facts and 
 the memories of the past, Mildred found the cup of happi 
 ness which Arnold pressed to her lips sweet indeed. She had 
 been exceedingly sorrowful for a long time, and it is contrary 
 to nature that the young should cling to sorrow, however 
 true and constant they may be. Her love was a part of 
 her happy girlhood, and now it seemed to have the power to 
 bring back some of her former girlish lightness of heart. 
 The prospects offered by Arnold certainly had little to do 
 with the returning tide of gladness which seemed bearing her 
 from the dark, rugged shores on which she had been nearly 
 wrecked. It was a buoyancy inherent within the love she 
 cherished, and her joy was so sweet, so profound, that she
 
 A FATAL ERROR. - S 11 
 
 shut her eyes to the future and thought, " For a few days, 
 for a few weeks, we'll just drink deeply at this life-giving 
 fountain. After our long separation it will do us both more 
 good than anything else. ' ' 
 
 She had said to Arnold that she was willing to wait, that 
 she would rather wait, but she soon began to feel differently. 
 Arnold infused into her nature some of his own dreamy, en 
 ervated spirit, and sometimes he would describe to her an 
 imaginary home so exactly to her taste that she would sigh 
 deeply ; and one day she remonstrated, ' ' Don' t tantalize me 
 with any more such exquisite mirages. Let us rather think 
 of the best and quickest way to secure a real home, and let 
 us be content in it, however humble it must be." But 
 Arnold was far better able to construct an imaginary palace 
 than an ordinary cottage. Although he seemed gaining 
 steadily under the impulse of his happiness, she often trem 
 bled to see how frail he was in body and how untrained and 
 impracticable in mind. He was essentially the product of 
 wealth, luxury, and seclusion, and while his intentions might 
 be the best, she was sometimes compelled to doubt his ability 
 to make much headway in the practical, indifferent world. 
 Instead of being discouraged, she only thought, " No one 
 can ever doubt the genuineness of my love. Roger is rich 
 already, and he is certain to become eminent, and yet my love 
 is more than all the world to me, and I so long for a little 
 nook of a home that I could call all my own, that I would 
 be willing to marry Vinton at once and support him myself 
 if his health required it. I don't think I can be like other 
 girls. I shall never get over my pride, but I haven' t a par 
 ticle of ambition. The world at large is nothing to me, and 
 instead of wishing to shine in it, I am best pleased to escape 
 its notice altogether." 
 
 Arnold's family were as deeply perplexed as they were in 
 censed at his course. He would not leave the city for any
 
 512 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 fashionable resort, and they well knew the reason. His 
 father and mother hesitated in their departure, not knowing 
 what " folly," as they termed it, he might be guilty of in 
 their absence. They felt that they must bring the matter to 
 some issue, and yet how to do so puzzled them greatly, for, 
 as he had said, he had done nothing as yet to disgrace them, 
 and his bearing toward them was as irreproachable as it was 
 cold and dignified. 
 
 At last, unknown to them, an elder brother undertook to 
 solve the problem. He was a thorough man of the world, 
 and his scrupulous compliance with the requirements of fash 
 ionable society led his mother to regard him as a model of 
 propriety. In his private, hidden life he was as unscrupulous 
 as the ultra fashionable often are. 
 
 Vinton, ' ' he said one day, ' ' what a fool you are mak 
 ing of yourself in this affair ! You have been brought up 
 like a girl, and you are more simple and innocent than they 
 average. I've seen your charmer, and I admit that she is a 
 fine creature. As far as looks go, you show as much judg 
 ment as any man in town, but there your wits desert you. 
 Girls in her position are not nice as to terms when they can 
 greatly better themselves. You have money enough to lodge 
 her like a princess compared with her present condition. 
 Verbum sat sapienti. ' ' 
 
 Vinton replied indignantly that he knew nothing about 
 Mildred. 
 
 " Oh, I know all about women, " was the confident reply ; 
 " have forgotten more than you ever knew." 
 
 Nevertheless this thought, like an evil seed, sprang up into 
 a speedy but not rank growth. Arnold saw that his family 
 would regard his marriage as an outrage which they would 
 resent in ever}' possible way, and that their hostility now was 
 but an ill-concealed, smouldering fire. The relation to him 
 would not be what his brother suggested, but as sacred and
 
 A FATAL ERROR. 5 X 3 
 
 binding as marriage. His unhealthful reading, his long 
 years abroad, and the radical weakness of his nature prepared 
 him to accept this solution as the easiest and best that cir 
 cumstances permitted of. He justly doubted whether he 
 would soon, if ever, gain the power of being independent. 
 He knew nothing of business, and hated its turmoil and dis 
 tractions, and while for Mildred's sake he would attempt any 
 thing and suffer anything, he had all the unconquerable 
 shrinking from a manful push out into the world which a 
 timid man feels at the prospect of a battle. He had been 
 systematically trained into weakness, and he felt that men, 
 when he came to compete with them, would discover and 
 take advantage of his defects. His cold, haughty reticence 
 was but disguised timidity. In Mildred's presence he even 
 showed the best side of his nature, and his lonely, repressed 
 life had always touched the tenderest chords of her heart. 
 If their love had been smiled upon from the first, how differ 
 ent would have been his fate ! She would have tenderly 
 developed his dwarfed, crushed manhood, and the result 
 would have been happiness for them both. 
 
 " Millie," said Arnold, one starlit night, "do you care 
 very much for the world's opinions?" They were sitting 
 on the platform above the old mansion. The German as 
 tronomer, after grumbling a while at an obscuring haze, had 
 gone down-stairs in disgust, and left the lovers to themselves. 
 
 ' ' No, Vinton, I never cared much for the world at any 
 time, and now I have an almost morbid impulse to shrink 
 from it altogether. I' m like my dear mamma. Home was 
 her world. Poor, dear mamma !" and she buried her face 
 on his shoulder and shed tears that his presence robbed of 
 much of their bitterness. 
 
 ' ' I not only do not care for the world, ' ' he said impetu 
 ously, ' ' but I hate it I' ve been dragged through it, and 
 have ever found it a desert, stony place. My heart just aches
 
 5M WI THO UT A HOME. 
 
 for the sweet quiet and seclusion of such a home as you could 
 make, Millie. As it is, I have no home. A hollow iceberg 
 could not be more cold and joyless than my present abode. 
 Neither have you a home. It is only in stolen moments 
 like these, liable to interruption, that we can speak of what 
 is in our hearts ;" and then, prompted by his feelings, long 
 ings, and the apparently friendless condition of the girl whose 
 head rested so trustingly on his breast, he broached the 
 scheme of life that had taken possession of his imagination. 
 
 At first, in her faith and innocence she scarcely understood 
 him, but suddenly she raised her head, and looked at him 
 with startled eyes. " What !" she said, in trembling alarm, 
 "no marriage? Mr. Wentworth and Roger Atwood not 
 present ?' ' 
 
 " No minister could make our union more sacred than it 
 would be to me," he faltered, " and as soon as my obdurate 
 parents ' ' 
 
 She sprang to her feet, and exclaimed passionately, "I'd 
 rather die ten thousand deaths than bring a blush of shame 
 to Roger Atwood' s face." Then she sank into her chair in 
 an uncontrollable outburst of grief. He pleaded with her, 
 but she was deaf ; he tried to caress her, but, although half 
 unconscious from her agony, she repulsed him. " Oh, oh," 
 she moaned, ' ' is this the sole reward of my fidelity ?' ' 
 
 " Millie, Millie," he entreated, " you will kill me if you 
 cannot control yourself. I will do anything you say sub 
 mit to any terms. Oh, pity me, or I shall die." 
 
 " Leave me," she said faintly. 
 
 Never, ' ' he cried ; "I'd sooner cast myself down from 
 this height." 
 
 By visible and painful effort she at last grew calm enough 
 to say firmly, 
 
 " Mr. Arnold, I do pity you. Even at this moment I 
 will try to do you justice. My heart seems broken, and yet
 
 A FATAL ERROR. 5l5 
 
 I fear you will suffer more than I. My own womanhood 
 would make your words the sufficient cause for our final 
 separation, and had I not a friend in the world we could 
 never meet again. But I have a friend, a brother to whom 
 I owe more than life, and whom I love better than life. He 
 would have made me rich if I would have let him, but I loved 
 you too well. Not for my hope of heaven would I make 
 him blush for me. I would have married you and lived in 
 a single room in a tenement. I would have supported you 
 with my own hands. The weaknesses for which you were 
 not to blame drew my heart toward you, but you have shown 
 a defect in your character to-night which creates an impass 
 able gulf between us. In view of the wrong done you by 
 others I forgive you I shall pray God to forgive you but 
 we have fatally misunderstood each other. If you have any 
 manhood at all, if you have the ordinary instincts of a gen 
 tleman, you will respect the commands of an orphan girl, and 
 leave me, never to approach me again. ' ' 
 
 Speechless, almost paralyzed in his despair, he tottered to 
 the steps and disappeared.
 
 5 1 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 LIGHT AT EVENTIDE. 
 
 AS Mrs. Wheaton crossed the hallway from a brief call 
 on a neighbor, Vinton Arnold passed her. She noted 
 by the light of the lamp in her hand that his pallor was 
 ghostlike, and she asked quickly, 
 
 " Vere is Miss Jocelyn ?" 
 
 He paid no more heed to her than if he were a shadow of 
 a man, and went by her with wavering, uncertain steps, with 
 out a word. In sudden alarm she hastened to the roof, and 
 found Mildred kneeling by her chair, weeping and almost 
 speechless from grief. She took the girl in her arms, and 
 said excitedly, " Vat did he say to you ?" 
 
 " Oh," sobbed Mildred, " my heart is broken at last. I 
 feel as mamma did when she said her heart was bleeding 
 away. Mrs. Wheaton, I shall stay with you now as long as 
 I live, and it seems as if it wouldn't be very long. Never 
 speak of him again never speak of it to a living soul. He 
 asked that which would banish you and Roger dear, brave, 
 patient Roger from my side forever, and I will never see 
 his face again. Oh, oh, I wish I could die !" 
 
 " I'm a plain voman," Mrs. Wheaton said grimly, " but! 
 took the measure of ' im soon as I clapped my heyes on ' im ; 
 but Millie, me darlin' , you couldn' t be so cruel as to break 
 hour 'earts by dying for sich a man. You vould make the 
 vorld black for us hall, yer know. Come, dear, come vith 
 me. I'll take care hof yer. I'm not fine like 'im that's
 
 LIGHT AT E VENTIDE. 5 1 7 
 
 gone, thank the Lord, but I'll never ax ye to do haught that 
 Mr. Ventvorth vouldn't bless," and she half supported the 
 exhausted, trembling girl to her room, and there was ten 
 der and tireless in her ministrations. In the early dawn, 
 when at last Mildred slept for an hour or two, she wrote, in a 
 half-legible scrawl, to Roger, ' ' Come back. Millie wants 
 you. ' ' 
 
 His presence in response was prompt indeed. On the 
 second morning after the events described, Mildred sat in her 
 chair leaning back with closed eyes. Mrs. Wheaton was 
 away at work, and her eldest daughter was watching the little 
 brood of children on the sidewalk. A decided knock at the 
 door caused the young girl to start up with apprehension. 
 She was so nervously prostrated that she trembled like a 
 leaf. At last she summoned courage and opened the door 
 slightly, and when she saw Roger's sunburnt, honest face she 
 welcomed him as if he were a brother indeed. 
 
 He placed her gently in her chair again, and said, with a 
 keen look into her eyes, " How is this, Millie ? I left you 
 happy and even blooming, and now you appear more pale 
 and broken than ever before. You look as if you had been 
 seriously ill. Oh, Millie, that couldn't be, and you not let 
 
 me know," and he clasped her hand tightly as he spoke. 
 She buried her burning face on his shoulder, and said, in 
 
 a low, constrained tone, " Roger, I've told Mr. Arnold this 
 
 much about you I said I'd die ten thousand deaths rather 
 
 than cause you to blush for me." 
 
 He started as if he had bee'n shot. " Great God !" he 
 
 exclaimed, ' ' and did he ask you aught that would make 
 
 you blush ?" 
 
 Bitter tears were Mildred's only answer. 
 
 The young man's passion for a few moments was terrible, 
 
 but Mildred's pallid face soon calmed him. " You could 
 
 not harm him," she said sadly. " What is one blow more
 
 Si 8 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 to a man who is in torture ? I pity him from the depths of 
 my soul, and you must promise me to let him alone. Never 
 for a moment did I forget that you were my brother. ' ' 
 
 In strong revulsion of feeling he bent one knee at her side 
 and pleaded, " Oh, Millie, give me the right to protect you. 
 I'll wait for you till I'm gray. I'll take what love you can 
 give me. I'll be devotion itself." 
 
 " Don' t, Roger," she said wearily. " I love you too well 
 to listen. Such words only wound me. Oh, Roger, be 
 patient with me. You don't understand, you never will un 
 derstand. I do give you the right to protect me ; but don' t 
 talk that way again. I just long for rest and peace. Roger, 
 my friend, my brother," she said, lifting her eyes appealingly 
 to his, and giving him both of her hands, " don't you see ? 
 I can give you everything in this way, but in the way you 
 speak of nothing. My heart is as dead as poor Belle's." 
 . " Your wish shall be my law," he said gently. 
 
 " And you'll not harm Mr. Arnold ?" 
 
 " Not if it will hurt you." 
 
 " I never wish to see or hear from him again, and you'll 
 never have cause to fear any one else." 
 
 ".Millie," he said sadly, " it is for you I fear most. You 
 look so sad, pale, and broken-hearted. There isn't a sacri 
 fice I wouldn't make for you. Millie, you won't let this 
 thing crush you ? It would destroy me if you did. We will 
 resume our old quiet life, and you shall have rest of body 
 and soul ;" and he kept his word so well that, before many 
 months passed, her mind regained sufficient tone and 
 strength to enable her to engage in the simple duties of life 
 with something like zest. He talked to her about many of 
 his studies, he searched the stores for the books which he 
 thought would be to her taste, and took her to see every 
 beautiful work of art on exhibition. In spite of her poverty, 
 he daily made her life richer and fuller of all that he knew
 
 LIGH T AT E VEN TIDE. 519 
 
 to be congenial to her nature. While she gained in serenity 
 and in capability for quiet enjoyment, he was positively 
 happy, for he believed that before many years passed she 
 would be ready to spend the rest of life at his side. He 
 meantime was pursuing his studies with a vigor and success 
 that inspired his friends with the most sanguine hopes. 
 
 Vinton Arnold, on that terrible night when his false dream 
 of life was shattered, went through the streets as oppressed 
 with shame and despair as if he were a lost spirit. As he 
 was slowly and weakly climbing the stairs his father called 
 him to the sitting-room, where he and his wife were in con 
 sultation, feeling that matters must be brought to some kind 
 of a settlement, Mrs. Arnold urging extreme measures, and 
 her husband bent on some kind of compromise. As his 
 son entered, the old gentleman started up, exclaiming, 
 
 " Good God, my boy, what is the matter ?" 
 
 " He's going to have one of his bad turns," said his 
 mother, rising hastily. 
 
 " Hush, both of you," he commanded sternly, and he sat 
 down near the door. Fixing a look of concentrated hatred 
 on his mother, he said slowly, " Madam, you are not will 
 ing that I should marry Mildred Jocelyn." 
 
 "And with very good reason," she replied, a little con 
 fused by his manner. 
 
 " Well, let it rejoice such heart as you have I shall never 
 marry her." 
 
 ' ' What do you mean ?' ' 
 
 ' ' I mean never to speak to you again after this brief inter 
 view. I am a lost man lost beyond hope, and you are the 
 cause. If you had had a mother's heart my father would not 
 have been so obdurate. Since you would not let me marry 
 her, I was tempted by my love and the horrible life I lead in 
 this house to offer her a relation which would have been mar 
 riage to me, but from which her proud, pure spirit recoiled, as
 
 520 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 I recoil from you, and I shall never see her face again in this 
 world or in any world. Your work is finished. You need 
 not scheme or threaten any more. While she is as good as 
 an angel of heaven, she is as proud as you are, and you have 
 murdered my hope my soul. Father, I have but one re 
 quest to make to you. Give me money enough to live any 
 where except under this roof. No, no more words to-night, 
 unless you would have me die in your presence with curses 
 on my lips. I have reached the utmost limit ;" and he 
 abruptly left the room. 
 
 Mrs. Arnold took refuge in hysterics, and her husband 
 rang violently for her maid, and then locked himself up in 
 his library, where he walked the floor for many an hour. 
 The next morning he tried to make overtures to his son, but 
 he found the young man deaf and stony in his despair. 
 " It's too late," was all that he would say. 
 
 " Oh, let him alone," protested his wife irritably, as her 
 husband came down looking sorely troubled ; " Vinton will 
 indulge in high tragedy for a few months, and then settle 
 down to sensible life," and in the hope of this solution the 
 old merchant went gloomily to his business. 
 
 That day Vinton Arnold left his home, and it was years 
 before he returned. 
 
 Two years or more passed away in quiet, toilsome days for 
 Mildred. She had gained serenity, and apparently had ac 
 cepted her lot without repining. Indeed, thanks to Roger's 
 unfaltering devotion, it was not a monotonous or a sad one. 
 He let her heart rest, hoping, trusting that some day it 
 would wake from its sleep. In compliance with her wish 
 he was in semblance a brother, and his attentions were so 
 quiet and frank, his manner toward her so restful, that even 
 she half believed at times that his regard for her was passing 
 into the quiet and equable glow of fraternal love. Such 
 coveted illusions could not be long maintained, however, for
 
 LIGHT AT E V EN TIDE. 521 
 
 occasionally when he was off his guard she would find him 
 looking at her in a way that revealed how much he repressed. 
 She shed many bitter tears over what she termed his <l ob 
 stinate love," but an almost morbid conviction had gained 
 possession of her mind that unless she could return his 
 affection in kind and degree she ought not to marry him. 
 
 At last she began to grow a little restless under her rather 
 aimless life, and one day she said to her pastor, Mr. Went- 
 worth, " I want a career isn't that what you call it? I'm 
 tired of being a sewing- woman, and soon I shall be a 
 wrinkled spinster. Isn't there something retired and quiet 
 which a girl with no more brains and knowledge than I have 
 can do ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' he said gravely ; ' ' make a home for Roger. ' ' 
 
 She shook her head. " That is the only thing I can't do 
 for him," she replied very sadly. " God only knows how 
 truly I love him. I could give him my life, but not the 
 heart of a wife. I have lost everything except truth to my 
 womanly nature. I must keep that. Moreover, I'm too 
 good a friend of Roger's to marry him. He deserves the 
 strong first love of a noble woman, and it will come to him 
 some day. Do you think I could stand before you and 
 God's altar and promise what is impossible? No, Mr. 
 Wentworth, Roger has a strength and force of character 
 which will carry him past all this, and when once he sees I 
 have found a calling to which I can devote all my energies, 
 he will gradually become reconciled to the truth, and finally 
 accept a richer happiness than I could ever bring him." 
 
 " You are an odd girl, Mildred, but perhaps you are 
 right. I've learned to have great faith in you. Well, I 
 know of a career which possibly may suit you. It would 
 open an almost limitless field of usefulness," and he told her 
 of the Training School for Nurses in connection with Belle- 
 vue Hospital.
 
 522 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 The proposition took Mildred's fancy greatly, and it was 
 arranged that they should visit the institution on the follow 
 ing afternoon. Roger sighed when he heard of the project, 
 but only remarked patiently, ' ' Anything you wish, Millie. ' ' 
 
 " Dear old fellow, " she thought ; " he doesn't know I'm 
 thinking of him more than myself. ' ' 
 
 Mildred made her friend Clara Wilson and her brother and 
 sister a long visit the following summer, and in the fall 
 entered on her duties, her zest greatly increased by the pros 
 pect of being able before very long to earn enough to give 
 Fred and Minnie a good education. The first year of her 
 training passed uneventfully away, she bringing to her tasks 
 genuine sympathy for suffering, and unusual aptness and 
 ability. Her own sorrowful experience made her tender 
 toward the unfortunate ones for whom she cared, and her 
 words and manner brought balm and healing to many sad 
 hearts that were far beyond the skill of the hospital surgeons. 
 
 During the first half of the second year, in accordance with 
 the custom of the School, she responded to calls from 
 wealthy families wherein there were cases of such serious 
 illness as to require the services of a trained nurse, and in 
 each instance she so won the confidence of the attending phy 
 sician and the affection of the family as to make them per 
 sonal friends. Her beautiful face often attracted to her not 
 a little attention, but she was found to be as unapproachable 
 as a Sister of Charity. Roger patiently waited, and filled the 
 long months with unremitting toil. 
 
 One evening toward the latter part of the first six months 
 of her outside work, Mildred returned from nursing a patient 
 back to health. She found the lady in charge of the institu 
 tion in much tribulation. " Here is Mrs. Sheppard, from 
 one of the most influential families on Fifth Avenue, offering 
 anything for a nurse. Her brother is dying with consump 
 tion, she says. He has a valet in attendance, but the phy-
 
 LIGHT AT E VENTIDE. 523 
 
 sician in charge says he needs a trained nurse, for he wants 
 constant watching. He is liable to die at any moment. We 
 haven't a nurse unemployed. Do you feel too tired to go ?" 
 
 "Oh, no," said Mildred. " My patient improved so 
 much that for the last week I've almost been resting." 
 
 ' ' And you think you can go ?' ' 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " I'll tell Mrs. Sheppard then to send for you in a couple 
 of hours. That will give you time to get ready." 
 
 Two hours later Mildred was driven rapidly by a coachman 
 in livery to a mansion on Fifth Avenue, and she was speedily 
 ushered into the room where the patient lay. He was sleep 
 ing at the time, with curtains drawn and his face turned away. 
 Mildred only glanced at him sufficiently to see that he was 
 very much emaciated. A middle-aged lady who introduced 
 herself as Mrs. Sheppard received her, saying, " I'm so glad 
 you are here, for I am overcome with fatigue. Last night 
 he was very restless and ill, and would have no one near him 
 except myself. His valet is in that room just across the hall, 
 and will come at the slightest summons. Now while my 
 brother is sleeping I will rest at once. My room is here, 
 opening into this. Call me if there is need, and don't mind 
 if he talks strangely. Your room is there, just beyond this 
 one,' and with a few directions, given with the air of extreme 
 weariness, she passed to her own apartment, and was soon 
 sleeping soundly. 
 
 Mildred sat down in the dim room where the light fell 
 upon her pure, sweet profile, which was made a little more 
 distinctly the flickering of the cannel-coal fire, and began 
 one of the quiet watches to which she was becoming so ac 
 customed. Her thoughts were very painful at first, for they 
 seemed strangely inclined to dwell on Vinton Arnold. From 
 the time they parted she had heard nothing of him, and since 
 the brief explanation that she had been compelled to give to
 
 524 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Roger, his name had not passed her lips. He had been 
 worse than dead to her, and she wondered if he were dead. 
 She had never cherished any vindictive feelings toward him, 
 and even now her eyes filled with tears of commiseration for 
 his wronged and wretched life. Then by a conscious effort 
 she turned her thoughts to the friend who had never failed 
 her. " Dear Roger," she murmured, " he didn't appear 
 well the last time I saw him. He is beginning to look worn 
 and thin. I know he is studying too hard. Oh, I wish my 
 heart were not so perverse, for he needs some one to take 
 care of him. He can't change ; he doesn't get over it as I 
 hoped he would," and her eyes, bent on the fire, grew 
 dreamy and wistful. 
 
 Unknown to herself, she was watched by one who scarcely 
 dared to breathe lest what seemed a vision should vanish. 
 The dying man was Vinton Arnold. His married sister, 
 overcome by weariness and the stupor of sleep, had in 
 advertently forgotten to mention his name, and Mildred was 
 under the impression that the name of her patient was Shep- 
 pard. She had never been within the Arnold mansion, nor 
 was she specially familiar with its exterior. Entering it 
 hastily on a stormy night, she had not received the faintest 
 suggestion that it was the home to which she and her mother 
 had once dreamed she might be welcomed. 
 
 When at last Arnold had awakened, he saw dimly, sitting 
 by the fire, an unfamiliar form, which nevertheless suggested 
 the one never absent from his thoughts. Noiselessly he 
 pushed the lace curtain aside, and to his unspeakable wonder 
 his eyes seemed to rest on Mildred Jocelyn. " She is dead," 
 he first thought, ' ' and it is her spirit. Or can it be that my 
 reason is leaving me utterly, and the visions of my tortured 
 mind are becoming more real than material things? Oh, 
 see," he murmured, " there are tears in her eyes. I could 
 almost imagine that a good angel had taken her guise and
 
 LIGHT AT E VENTIDE. $25 
 
 was weeping over one so lost and wrecked as I am. Now 
 her lips move she is speaking softly to herself. Great God I 
 can it be real ? Or is it that my end is near, and long- 
 delayed mercy gives me this sweet vision before I die ?" 
 
 His sombre and half-superstitious conjectures were almost 
 dispelled by a little characteristic act on Mildred's part an 
 act that contained a suggestion of hope for Roger. In 
 awakening the stronger traits of manhood in the latter she 
 had also evoked an appreciation of beauty and a growing love 
 for it. Mildred was human enough not to regret that this 
 developing sense should find its fullest gratification in herself. 
 Though so determined to become a wrinkled spinster, she 
 found a secret and increasing pleasure in the admiring glances 
 that dwelt upon her face and dainty figure, and this fact 
 might have contained for him, had he known it, a pleasing 
 hint. It must be confessed that she no longer wished to go into 
 his presence without adding a little grace to her usually plain 
 attire ; and now that she was thinking so deeply of him she in 
 voluntarily raised her hand to adjust her coquettish nurse's cap, 
 which by some feminine magic all her own she ever contrived 
 to make a becoming head-dress rather than a badge of office. 
 
 Even to Vinton Arnold's perturbed and disordered mind 
 the act was so essentially feminine and natural, so remote 
 from ghostly weirdness, that he raised himself on his elbow 
 and exclaimed, " Millie, Millie Jocelyn !" 
 
 " Ah !" cried Mildred, starting from her chair and looking 
 fearfully toward the half-closed door of Mrs. Sheppard's 
 room. In her turn her heart beat quickly, with the sudden 
 superstitious fear which the strongest of us cannot control 
 when we seem close to the boundaries of the unseen world. 
 " It was his voice," she murmured. 
 
 " Millie, oh, Millie, are you real, or is it a dream?" 
 
 She took two or three steps toward the bed, stopped, and 
 covered her face with her hands.
 
 526 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 " Oh, speak !" he cried in agony. "I do not know 
 whether I am dreaming or awake, or whether I now see as if 
 before me the one ever in my thoughts. You hide your face 
 from me, ' ' he groaned, sinking back despairingly. ' ' You 
 have come for a brief moment to show me that I can never 
 look upon your face again." 
 
 Mildred thought swiftly. Her first impulse was to depart 
 at once, and then her womanly pity and sense of duty gained 
 the mastery. Vinton Arnold was now a dying man, and she 
 but a trained nurse. Perhaps God's hand was in their strange 
 and unexpected meeting, and it was His will that the threads 
 of two lives that had been bound so closely should not be 
 severed in fatal evil. Should she thwart His mercy ? 
 
 " Mr. Arnold," she said, in an agitated voice, " this is a 
 strange and undreamt-of meeting. Let me quiet your mind, 
 however, by telling you how simple and matter-of-fact are 
 the causes which led to it. I am now a professional nurse 
 from the Training School connected with Bellevue Hospital, 
 and your sister, having sent to the School for assistance, ob 
 tained my services as she might those of any of my associates. 
 In view perhaps it would be best for one of them to take 
 my place. ' ' 
 
 He was strongly moved, and listened panting and trembling 
 in his weakness. " Millie," at last he faltered, " is there 
 any God at all ? Is there any kind or merciful spirit in 
 nature ? If so, you have been sent to me, for I am dying of 
 remorse. Since you bade me leave you I have suffered tor 
 tures, day and night, that I cannot describe. I have often 
 been at the point of taking my own life, but something held 
 me back. Can it be that it was for this hour ? Mildred, 
 I am dying. The end of a most unhappy life is very near. 
 Is there no mercy in your faith no mercy in your strong, 
 pure womanly heart ?" 
 
 "Vinton," she said gently, "I believe you are right.
 
 LIGHT AT E VENT WE. 527 
 
 God has sent me to you. I will not leave you until it 
 is best." 
 
 "Millie, Millie," he pleaded, "forgive me. I cannot 
 believe in God's forgiveness until you forgive me." 
 
 " I forgave you from the first, Vinton, because I knew 
 there was no cold-blooded evil in your mind, and I have 
 long felt that you were more sinned against than sinning. If 
 I stay I must impose one condition there must be no words 
 concerning the past. That is gone forever." 
 
 "I know it, Mildred. I killed your love with my own 
 hand, but the blow was more fatal to me than to you." 
 
 ' ' Can you not rally and live ?' ' she asked tearfully. 
 
 " No," he said, with a deep breath. " Moreover, I have 
 no wish to live. The dark shadow of my life will soon fall 
 on you no more, but the hope that I may breathe my last 
 with you near brings a deep content and peace. Does any 
 one yet suspect who you are ?" 
 
 " No. I fear Mrs. Arnold will not think it best." 
 
 " I have never spoken to Mrs. Arnold since that awful 
 night, and if she interferes now I will curse her with my last 
 breath. This is my one hope my one gleam of light in 
 the life she has cursed " 
 
 " Hush, oh hush ! Unless my presence brings quietness 
 I cannot stay," for at the name of his mother he became 
 dangerously agitated. " I will tell Mrs. Sheppard in the 
 morning, and I think she will arrange it so that I can do all 
 in my power for you. ' ' 
 
 " No," he replied, after a little thought, " I will tell her. 
 She is unlike my mother and other sisters, and has a good 
 heart. She has taken entire charge of me, but I was in such 
 a hell of suffering at the thought of dying without one word 
 from you that I was almost a maniac. I will be quiet now. 
 Leave all to me ; I can make her understand." 
 
 When Mrs. Sheppard entered, as the late dawn began to
 
 528 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 mingle with the gaslight, she found her brother sleeping 
 quietly, his hand clasping Mildred's. To her slight expres 
 sion of surprise the young girl returned a clear, steadfast look, 
 and said calmly, ' ' When your brother awakes he has some 
 explanations to make. I am Mildred Jocelyn. ' ' 
 
 The lady sank into a chair and looked at her earnestly. 
 ' ' I have long wished to see you, ' ' she murmured. ' ' Vin- 
 ton has told me everything. I was so overcome with sleep 
 and fatigue last night that I neither told you his name nor 
 asked yours. Did you not suspect where you were ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Not until he awoke and recognized me. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Was he greatly agitated ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Yes, at first. It was so unexpected that he thought me 
 a mere illusion of his own mind." 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn, I believe God sent you to him." 
 
 "So he thinks." 
 
 " You won't leave him till till It can't be long." 
 
 " That depends upon you, Mrs. Sheppard. I am very, 
 very sorry for him," and tears came into her eyes. 
 
 Low as was the murmur of their voices, Arnold awoke and 
 glanced with troubled eyes from one to the other before it all 
 came back to him ; but his sister brought quiet and rest by 
 saying gently, as she kissed him, 
 
 " Vinton, Miss Jocelyn shall not leave you."
 
 "GOOD ANGEL OF GOD," 529 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 ''GOOD ANGEL OF GOD/' 
 
 THE young nurse soon became known through the 
 house simply as Miss Mildred. With the exception 
 of Mrs. Sheppard, the valet, and the physician, no one en 
 tered the sick-room except Mr. Arnold, and the old man 
 often lingered and hovered around like a remorseful ghost 
 He had grown somewhat feeble, and no longer went to his 
 business. His son had tolerated his presence since he had 
 come home to die, but had little to say to him, for the bit 
 terness of his heart extended to the one who had yielded to 
 his mother's hardness and inveterate worldliness. In the 
 secrecy of his heart the old merchant admitted that he had 
 been guilty of a fatal error, and the consequences had been 
 so terrible to his son that he had daily grown more con 
 science-smitten ; but his wife had gained such an ascendency 
 over him in all social and domestic questions that beyond 
 occasional protests he had let matters drift until Vinton re 
 turned from his long exile in Europe. The hope that his 
 son would get over what his wife called ' ' an absurd youth 
 ful folly" was now rudely dispelled, and in bitterness he 
 reproached himself that he had not adopted a different course. 
 
 From the way in which he came in and looked at his son 
 when he was sleeping, it was soon revealed to Mildred ho\v 
 he felt, and she pitied him also. 
 
 Mrs. Sheppard was a wealthy widow, and the eldest 
 daughter. She was for the present making her home under
 
 53 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the paternal roof. Unlike her mother, she had quick, strong 
 sympathies, which sorrows of her own had deepened. She 
 had assumed the care of her brother, and infused into her 
 ministry a tenderness which at last led the embittered heart 
 to reveal itself to her. She was therefore already prepared to 
 be Mildred's sincere ally in bringing a little light into the late 
 evening-tide of her brother's clouded day. 
 
 Most of the time she sat in her own room with the door 
 ajar, leaving Vinton to the ministrations of his nurse. He 
 required far less care now, for he seemed content to rest as 
 one might during a respite from torture. His eyes would 
 follow Mildred with a pathetic longing when he was awake, 
 and when she took his hand and told him to sleep he would 
 obey like a child. He seemed better because so quiet, but 
 he grew weaker daily. All knew, and none better than him 
 self, that life was slowly ebbing. His father came in more 
 frequently than ever, for his son showed no restlessness at his 
 presence now. At Mildred's request Vinton even began to 
 greet him with something like a welcome, and the young girl 
 did all in her power to make the old gentleman feel at home ; 
 sometimes she would place a large easy-chair by the fire and 
 ask him to sit with them. He was glad to comply, and often 
 looked wonderingly and earnestly at the fair young nurse that 
 was working such a transformation in the patient. He once 
 or twice tried to become better acquainted with her, but ever 
 found her gentle, deferential, and very reserved. 
 
 Twice Mildred asked Vinton to let her send for Mr. Went- 
 worth, but he shook his head and said that she alone could 
 do him any good. " Read the Bible to me when you feel 
 like it. I'll listen to you, but my best hope is to sleep so 
 quietly that I shall have no dreams. If that cannot be, I'll 
 remember that you forgave me. ' ' 
 
 " Such words make me very sad," she replied, on the lat 
 ter occasion, tears rushing into her eyes.
 
 " GOOD ANGEL OF GOD." $3! 
 
 ' ' I am not worthy that you should care so much, ' ' he 
 said. " What am I but a flickering rush-light which your 
 hand is shielding that it may burn out quietly ?" 
 
 1 ' Vinton, you are wrong. The life which God has given 
 you cannot cease. I am not wise and learned, and I have 
 an almost unconquerable diffidence in speaking on these sub 
 jects, except to children and the poor and ignorant. But 
 since you won't see any one else, I must speak. You say 
 God sent me to you, and I accept your belief, but He did 
 not send me to you merely to relieve physical pain and men 
 tal disquiet. If a man is stumbling toward an abyss of dark 
 ness, is it any great kindness to hold a lamp so that his last 
 steps may be easier ? There is for each one of us a vital 
 truth and a sacred duty, and in shutting your eyes to these 
 and living in the present hour, you show pardon an honest 
 friend for saying it you show a more fatal weakness than 
 you have yet manifested." 
 
 "You are mistaken, Mildred," he said bitterly. "As 
 far as I am concerned, what truth is there for me to contem 
 plate except a wasted, unhappy life, wrecked and shamed be 
 yond remedy, beyond hope. I long ago lost what trace of 
 manhood I once had. Never dream that because you have for 
 given me I shall forgive myself. No, no," he said, with a 
 dark vindictiveness in his eyes, " there are three that I shall 
 never forgive, and I am one of them. As for duty, the word is 
 torment. What can I do I who can scarcely raise my hand ? 
 My day is over, my chance has gone by forever. Don't in 
 terrupt me. I know you would speak of the consolations of 
 religion, but I'd rather goto the devil himself if there is one 
 than to such a God as my mother worships ; and she 
 has always been a very religious woman. The whole thing 
 long since became a farce to me at our church. It was 
 just as much a part of the fashionable world that blighted me 
 as the rest of society's mummeries. You never went there
 
 5 3 2 WITHO UT A HOME. 
 
 after you had real trouble to contend with. It was the last 
 place that you would think of going to for comfort or help. 
 The thought of you alone has kept me from utter unbelief, 
 and I would be glad to believe that there is some kindly 
 power in existence that watches over such beings as you are, 
 and that can reward your noble life ; but as far as I am con 
 cerned it's all a mystery and a weariness. You are near 
 you are merciful and kind. This is all the heaven I expect. 
 It is far more than I deserve. Let me rest, Mildred. It 
 will be but for a few more days. Then when you close my 
 eyes, may I sleep forever," and he leaned back faint and ex 
 hausted. He would not let her interrupt him, for he seemed 
 bent on settling the question as far as he was concerned, and 
 dismissing it finally. 
 
 She listened with fast-falling tears, and answered sighingly, 
 " Oh, I do wish you would see Mr. Wentworth. You are 
 so wrong so fatally mistaken." 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' he said firmly, ' ' I will see no one but you. 
 
 ' ' Oh, what shall I say to you ?' ' 
 
 ' ' Do not grieve so about me. You cannot change any 
 thing. You cannot give me your strong, grand nature any 
 more than you can your beautiful life and perfect health. I 
 could become a Catholic and worship St. Mildred," he added 
 with a smile, trying to banish her tears. "The only duty 
 that I am capable of is to try to make as little trouble as pos 
 sible, and to cease making it altogether soon. Go and rest, 
 and I will too, for I'm very tired." 
 
 " No," she said resolutely. " My mission to you must 
 not end so weakly, so uselessly. Will you do me a favor ?' ' 
 
 "I?" 
 
 "Yes; listen quietly and honestly ;" and she read the 
 first verses of the nineteenth chapter of St. John, ending with 
 the words, " Behold the man." 
 
 ' ' Vinton, ' ' she said eagerly, ' ' the truth to which I referred
 
 "GOOD ANGEL OF GOD." 533 
 
 was embodied truth, and your first sacred duty is to look to 
 Him and live. To the last conscious moment of life this 
 will remain your first and most sacred duty, and were you the 
 strongest man in this city you could not do more. It's not 
 a question of religions at all, or of what other people are or 
 believe. The words I have read have brought you face to 
 face with this Divine Man, who came to seek and save that 
 which was lost. Never did a despairing human soul cry out 
 to Him in vain. He is as real as I am. His tender pity is 
 infinitely beyond mine. Far better and wiser would it be for 
 you to turn from me than from Him. Oh, merciful Christ, 
 how the world wrongs Thee !" and she buried her face in 
 her hands and sobbed bitterly. 
 
 " Millie, please don't," he entreated. " I can't endure 
 to see you so grieved. ' ' 
 
 " Forgive me I am forgetting myself sadly ; but how can 
 I see you so hopeless, so despairing, when there is no more 
 need of it than of your refusing what I try to do for your 
 comfort? There, rest now, but think of what I've said. I 
 may have done wrong to tire you so, but to minister to the 
 body only, when the soul, the man within you, is in such 
 infinite need seems but a mockery. If you continue to 
 wrong Him who should be the one great hope of every 
 human heart, you will sadden all my days. My mission will 
 be but a poor one indeed." 
 
 He was very much exhausted, but he said gently, ' ' I will 
 think of it, and may the One you serve so faithfully bless you 
 for your divine pity. What you have said seems to make 
 everything different ; you appear to have something real and 
 definite in your mind. Give me your hand and I will rest ; 
 then, my good angel, teach me your faith." 
 
 This Mildred did almost wholly from God's own word. 
 At first it was hard for him to believe that there were any 
 possibilities for one like him, but at last he accepted the truth
 
 534 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 that God is not willing that the least should perish. ' ' The 
 mystery of life is something that the wisest cannot solve, ' ' she 
 said to him, " but the best hopes of the world have ever 
 centred about this Divine Friend. Burdened hearts have 
 gone to Him in every age and found rest. Oh, how often 
 He has comforted me when mine seemed breaking ! In re 
 sponse to a simple trust He gives a hope, a life which I do 
 not think can be found elsewhere, and in the limitless future 
 that which was all wrong here may be made right and 
 perfect. ' ' 
 
 " So this is your revenge, Millie. You come and bring 
 me this great hope. ' ' 
 
 " No, God sent me." 
 
 Mildred's mission to the sad-hearted Mrs. Sheppard was 
 almost as sacred and useful as to her brother, and they had 
 many long talks which possessed all the deep interest which 
 is imparted by experiences that leave a lasting impress on 
 memory. 
 
 Every day increased the bitter regret that short-sighted 
 worldliness had blighted one life and kept from others one 
 who had such rare powers of creating all that constitutes a 
 home. 
 
 To Roger Mildred had written almost daily, telling him 
 everything. Her letters were so frank and sincere that they 
 dispelled the uneasiness which first took possession of his 
 mind, and they gradually disarmed him of his hostility to the 
 dying man. There is a point in noble souls beyond which 
 enmity falters and fails, and he felt that Mildred's course 
 toward Arnold was like the mercy of God. He reverenced 
 the girl who like an angel of mercy was bringing hope -to a 
 despairing soul. 
 
 " Laura," said old Mr. Arnold to Mrs. Sheppard one 
 evening as she was sitting with him in his library, " this 
 young nurse is a continual surprise to me."
 
 " GOOD ANGEL OF GOD." 535 
 
 " What do you mean, papa ?" 
 
 " Well, she impresses me strangely. She has come to us 
 as a professional nurse, and yet I have never seen a more per 
 fect gentlewoman. There is a subtle grace and refinement 
 about her which is indescribable. No wonder Vinton has 
 been made better by her care. I wouldn' t mind being sick 
 myself if I could have her about me. That girl has a his 
 tory. How comes she in such a position ?' ' 
 
 " I think her position a very exalted one," said his 
 daughter warmly. ' ' Think what an infinite blessing and 
 comfort she has been in our household." 
 
 '.' True, true enough ; but I didn't expect any such person 
 to be sent to us." 
 
 ' ' I am perfectly ready to admit that this young girl is an 
 unusual character, and have no doubt that she has had a 
 history that would account for her influence. But you are 
 in error if you think that these trained nurses are recruited 
 from the ranks of commonplace women. Many of them 
 come from as good families as ours, and have all the instincts 
 of a true lady. They have a noble calling, and I envy them. '* 
 " Well, you know more about it than I do, but I think 
 this Miss Mildred a rare type of woman. It's not her beau 
 tiful face, for she has a charm, a winsomeness that is hard to 
 define or account for. She makes me think of some subtle 
 perfume that is even sweeter than the flower from which it is 
 distilled. Would to God Vinton had met such a girl at 
 first ! How different it all might have been !" 
 
 Mrs. Sheppard left the room so hastily as to excite her 
 father's surprise. 
 
 One day Vinton said to Mildred, " How can I be truly 
 forgiven unless I forgive ? I now see that I have wronged 
 God's love even more than my mother has wronged me, and 
 in my deep gratitude from the consciousness of God's for 
 giveness I would like to forgive her and be reconciled before?
 
 S3 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 I die. To my brother I will send a brief message I can't 
 see him again, for the ordeal would be too painful. As for 
 my father, I have long ceased to cherish enmity against him. 
 He, like myself, is, in a certain sense, a victim of our 
 family pride." 
 
 ' ' Vinton, ' ' Mildred replied, ' ' I cannot tell you how glad 
 I am to hear you speak so. I have been waiting and hoping 
 for this, for it is proof that your feeling is not mere emotion 
 and sentiment. You now propose to do something that is 
 more than manly it is divine. God' s greatest, dearest, most 
 godlike prerogative is to forgive, and man's noblest act is to 
 forgive a great wrong. Vinton, you have now won my re 
 spect. ' ' 
 
 She never forgot his answering glance. " Millie," he said 
 softly, ' ' I can die happy now. I never expected more than 
 your pity." 
 
 " If you will do this, your memory will become sweet and 
 ennobled in my heart. Your action will show me how 
 grandly and swiftly God can develop one who has been 
 wronged by evil." 
 
 " God bless you, my good angel. Ask my sister to send 
 for my father and mother at once. I feel a little stronger 
 this evening, and yet I think the beginning of my new life is 
 very near." 
 
 Mildred went into Mrs. Sheppard's room and told her of 
 Vinton' s purpose. She looked at the young girl for a. 
 moment with eyes blinded by tears, and then clasped her in 
 a close, passionate embrace which was more eloquent than 
 any words. " Oh, Mildred," she said, with a low sob, " if 
 you only could have been my sister !" Then she hastened 
 to carry out her brother' s wishes. 
 
 The fire burned brightly in the grate, the softened lights 
 diffused a mil'd radiance through the room, and the old im 
 pression of gloom was utterly absent when Vinton' s parents
 
 " GOOD ANGEL OF GOD." 537 
 
 entered. Neither Mrs. Arnold nor her husband was quite 
 able to hide the surprise and embarrassment felt at the un 
 expected summons, but Mr. Arnold \nent promptly to the 
 bedside, and, taking his son's hand, said huskily, " I'll come 
 any time you wish, my dear boy, be it night or day. ' ' 
 
 Vinton gave as warm a pressure in answer as his feebleness 
 permitted, and then he said gravely, " I wish you and 
 mother to sit here close to me, for I must speak low, and my 
 words must be brief. I have but a little fragment of life left 
 to me, and must hasten to perform the few duties yet within 
 my power. ' ' 
 
 " Had not this young woman better retire?" suggested 
 Mrs. Arnold, glancing coldly at Mildred, who stood in the 
 background, Mrs. Sheppard detaining her by a strong, warm 
 clasp of her hand. 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' said Vinton decisively, ' ' she must remain. Were 
 it not for the influence of this Christian not religious, but 
 Christian girl, you would never have seen my face again, 
 with my consent. In showing me how God forgives the sin 
 ful, she has taught me how to forgive. Mother, I never ex 
 pected to forgive you, but I do from my heart. I am far be 
 yond the world and all worldly considerations. In the clear 
 light of the endless life to which we are all hastening, I see 
 as never before how small, petty, and unworthy are those un 
 natural principles which blight human life at fashion's bidding. 
 Mother, I wish to do you justice. You tried to care for me 
 in my childhood and youth. You spared yourself no expense, 
 no trouble, but you could not seem to understand that what 
 I needed was sympathy and love that my heart was always 
 repressed and unhappy. The human soul, however weak, 
 is not like an exotic plant. It should be tended by a hand 
 that is as gentle as it is firm and careful. I found one who 
 combined gentleness with strength ; stern, lofty principle with 
 the most beautiful wid delicate womanhood ; and you know
 
 S3 8 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 how I lost her. Could I have followed the instincts of my 
 heart, my fate would have been widely different. But that 
 is now all past. You did not mean to wrong me so terribly. 
 It was only because your own life was all wrong that you 
 wronged me. Your pride and prejudice prevented you from 
 knowing the truth concerning the girl I loved. Mother, I 
 am dying, and my last earnest counsel to you and father is 
 that you will obey the words of the loftiest and greatest, ' Learn 
 of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find 
 rest unto your souls.' If you cannot do this, your lives will 
 be a more wretched failure than mine has been. Bury your 
 worldly pride in my grave, and learn to be gentle and 
 womanly, and may God forgive you as truly as I do." 
 
 As he spoke slowly and feebly, the cold, proud woman 
 began to tremble and weep, and when his words ceased she 
 sank on her knees at his bedside and sobbed, " Oh, what 
 have I done ? Must I bear the remorse of having murdered 
 my own child ?" 
 
 " No, mother, you were blinded as I was. You will be 
 forgiven as I have been. In the better home of heaven we' 11 
 find the secret of our true relationship which we missed 
 here. Good-by now. I must hasten, for I am very weak. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Arnold rose, put her arms around her son and kissed 
 him, and her daughter supported her from the room, Vin- 
 ton's eyes following her sorrowfully until she disappeared. 
 Then he said, ' ' Dear old father, come and .sit close beside 
 me." 
 
 He came, and bowed his head upon his son's hand. 
 
 ' ' Millie, ' ' he called feebly to the young girl who stood by 
 the fire with her face buried in her hands. She came at once. 
 " God bless you for those tears. They fall like dew into 
 my soul. Millie, I feel as if I don' t know what it means 
 it seems as if I might go to my rest now. The room is 
 growing dark, and I seem to see you more in my mind than
 
 " GOOD ANGEL OF GOD," 539 
 
 with my eyes. Millie, will you can you so far forgive me 
 as to take my head upon your bosom and let me say my last 
 words near your heart ?' ' 
 
 " Great God !" cried his father, starting up, " is he dying ?" 
 
 " Father, please be calm. Keep my hand. Let my end 
 come as I wish. Millie, Millie, won't you ?" 
 
 Her experienced eyes saw that his death was indeed at 
 hand that his life had but flickered up brightly once more 
 before expiring. Therefore she gratified his final wish, and 
 took his head upon her breast. 
 
 ' ' Rest, rest at last, ' ' he sighed. 
 
 " Father," he said after a moment or two, look at this dear 
 girl who has saved my soul from death. ' ' The old man 
 lifted his head and gazed upon the pure, sweet face at which 
 he had looked so often and questioningly before. 
 
 " Oh, Vinton, Vinton, God forgive me ! I see it all. 
 Our insane pride and prejudice kept a good angel from our 
 home. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, father, this is Mildred Jocelyn. Was I wrong to 
 love her ?' ' 
 
 " Oh, blind, blind fool that I've been !" the old man 
 groaned. 
 
 " Don't grieve so, father. If you will listen to her words, 
 her mission to us all will be complete. She is fatherless. 
 Be kind to her after I am gone." 
 
 The old man rose slowly and leaned his brow on Mildred's 
 head. " My child," he said brokenly, " all my love for 
 Vinton shall now go to you, and his portion shall be yours." 
 
 ' ' God bless you, father. Good-by now. Let me sleep, ' ' 
 and his eyes closed wearily. 
 
 " That's right, my boy ; you'll be better in the morning, " 
 and with feeble, faltering steps he left the room, murmuring, 
 " Oh that I had only known in time !" 
 
 Mrs. Sheppard now entered and took his place. For a
 
 540 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 little time Vinton seemed to sleep. Then he opened his 
 eyes and looked slowly around. They kindled into loving 
 recognition as they rested on his sister. " Laura, your 
 patience and mercy toward me have been rewarded," he 
 whispered. ' ' Say to Mansfield and my other brother and 
 sisters what I told you. Be as kind to Mildred as you have 
 been to me. Good-by. ' ' 
 
 " Millie, Millie, good angel of God to me, farewell for a 
 little while. ' ' 
 
 His eyes closed again, his breath came more and more 
 slowly, and at last it ceased. His sister put her hand over 
 his heart His sad, thwarted life had ended on earth. 
 
 Mildred kissed him for the first time in her ministry, and 
 murmured, as she gently laid his head back upon the pillow, 
 " Thank God, it has not ended as I feared."
 
 HOME* 541 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 WE take up the thread of our story after the lapse of 
 several months. Mildred left the Arnold family 
 softened and full of regret. Even proud Mrs. Arnold asked 
 her forgiveness with many bitter tears, but beyond a few little 
 significant gifts they found it impossible to make the one 
 toward whom their hearts were now so tender take more than 
 the regular compensation that went toward the support of the 
 institution to which she belonged. Mr. Arnold and Mrs. 
 Sheppard would not give her up, and often came to see her, 
 and the old gentleman always made her promise that when 
 he became ill she would take care of him ; and once he whis 
 pered to her, ' ' You won' t take anything from me now, but 
 in my will I can remember my debt. All my wealth cannot 
 pay what I owe to you." 
 
 " Money has nothing to do with my relations to you," 
 she replied gently. 
 
 " Vinton's portion belongs to you," was his quiet reply. 
 ' ' The poor boy so understood it, and I shall not break faith 
 with the dead." 
 
 ' ' Then his portion shall go toward relieving suffering in 
 this city, ' ' was her answer. 
 
 ' ' You can do what you please with it, for it shall be yours. 
 
 While Mildred quietly performed her duties as head-nurse 
 in one of the wards during the last six months of the two 
 years of her sojourn at the Training School, some important
 
 542 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 changes had occurred in Roger's circumstances. He had, 
 more than a year before, graduated second in his class at 
 college, and had given the impression that he would have 
 been first had he taken the full four years' course. His 
 crotchety uncle, with whom since the reconciliation he had 
 resided, had died, and after a few months his wife followed 
 him, and Roger found himself a wealthy man, but not a 
 happy one. Beyond giving his parents every comfort which 
 they craved, and making his sister Susan quite an heiress, he 
 scarcely knew what to do with the money. His uncle's 
 home was not at all to his taste, and he soon left it, purchas 
 ing a moderate-sized but substantial and elegant house in a 
 part of the city that best suited his convenience. Here he 
 installed Mrs. Wheaton as housekeeper, and, with the excep 
 tion of his own suite of rooms and the sleeping apartments, 
 left all the rest unfurnished. After placing himself in a 
 position to offer hospitalities to his country relatives, he de 
 termined that the parlors should remain empty, as a mute re 
 proach to Mildred. 
 
 One evening, a week before she graduated, he induced her 
 to go with him to see his house. " It's not a home," he 
 whispered; "I merely stay here." Then, without giving 
 time for reply, he ushered her into the hall, which was simply 
 but very elegantly furnished. Mildred had time only to note 
 two or three fine old engravings and a bronze figure, when 
 Mrs. Wheaton, bustling up from the basement, overwhelmed 
 her with hospitality. They first inspected her domains, and 
 in neatness and comfort found them all that could be desired. 
 ' You see," said the good woman, as she and Mildred were 
 hidden from view in a china closet, " I could get hup quite 
 a grand dinner, but I hain't much use fur these 'ere things, 
 fur he heats less and less hevery day. I'm troubled habout 
 Mr. Roger, fur he seems kinder low hin 'is spirits and dis 
 couraged like. Most young men vould feel like lords hin 'is
 
 HOME. 543 
 
 shoes, but he' s a-gettin' veary and listless-like. Vun day he 
 vas so down that I vanted ' im to see a doctor, but he smiled 
 kinder strange and said nothin'. He's a-gettin' thin and 
 pale. Vat vould I do hif he should get sick ?" 
 
 Mildred turned in quick alarm and glanced at the young 
 man, who stood looking at the glowing kitchen-range, as if 
 his thoughts were little interested in the homely appliances 
 for his material comfort His appearance confirmed Mrs. 
 Wheaton's words, for his features were thinner than they had 
 been since he recovered from his illness, and there was a 
 suggestion of lassitude and dejection in his manner. She 
 went directly to him and said, 
 
 " Mrs. Wheaton tells me you are not well." 
 
 He started, then threw off all depression, remarking lightly, 
 " Mrs. Wheaton is fidgety. She prepares enough food for 
 four men. I' m well have been working rather late at night, 
 that' sail." 
 
 1 ' Why do you, Roger ?' ' she asked, in a voice full of solic 
 itude. 
 
 " If I don't feel sleepy there is no use in wasting time. 
 But come, you have seen enough of the culinary department. 
 Since Mrs. Wheaton has charge of it you can know before 
 hand that everything will be the best of its kind. I think \ 
 can show you something in my sitting-room that will interest 
 you more." 
 
 Mrs. Wheaton preceded them, and Mildred took his arm 
 in a way that showed that he had not been able to banish her 
 anxiety on his behalf. " Let me see your parlors, Roger," 
 she said when they again reached the hall. ' ' I expect to 
 find them models of elegance. ' ' 
 
 He threw open the door and revealed two bare rooms, the 
 brilliantly burning gas showing frescoes of unusual beauty, 
 but beyond these there was nothing to relieve their bleak 
 emptiness. ' ' I have no use for these rooms, ' ' he remarked
 
 544 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 briefly, closing the door. "Come with me," and he led her 
 to the apartment facing the street on the second floor. The 
 gas was burning dimly, but when he had placed her where 
 he wished her to stand, he suddenly turned it up, and before 
 her, smiling into her eyes from the wall, were three ex 
 quisitely finished oil portraits her father and mother and 
 Belle, looking as she remembered them in their best and hap 
 piest days. 
 
 The effect upon her at first was almost overpowering. She 
 sank into a chair with heart far too full for words, and looked 
 until tears so blinded her eyes that she could see them no 
 longer. 
 
 " Roger," she murmured, "it's almost the same as if you 
 had brought them back to life. Oh, Roger, God bless you 
 you have not banished papa ; you have made him look as he 
 asked us to remember him, ' ' and her tender grief became un 
 controllable for a few moments. 
 
 "Don't cry so, Millie," he said gently. "Don't you 
 see they are smiling at you ? Are the likenesses good ?' ' 
 
 " They are life-like," she answered after a little. " How 
 could you get them so perfect ?" 
 
 " Belle and your mother gave me their pictures long ago, 
 and you remember that I once asked you for your father's 
 likeness when I was looking for him. There were some 
 who could aid me if they knew how he looked. Then you 
 know my eye is rather correct, and I spent a good deal of 
 time with the artist. Between us we reached these results, 
 and it' s a great happiness to me that they please you. ' ' 
 
 Her eyes were eloquent indeed as she said, in a low tone, 
 " What a loyal friend you are !" 
 
 He shook his head so significantly that a sudden crimson 
 came into her face, and she was glad that Mrs. Wheaton 
 was busy in an adjoining room. " Come," he said lightly, 
 ' you are neglecting other friends ;" and turning she saw
 
 HOME. 545 
 
 fine photographs of Mr. Wentworlh, of Clara Wilson, Mrs. 
 Wheaton, and her little brother and sister ; also oil portraits 
 of Roger's relatives. 
 
 She went and stood before each one, and at last returned 
 to her own kindred, and her eyes began to fill again. 
 
 " How rich you are in these !" she at last said. " I have 
 nothing but little pictures." 
 
 " These are yours, Millie. " When you are ready for 
 them I shall place them on your walls myself. ' ' 
 
 " Roger," she said a little brusquely, dashing the tears 
 out of her eyes, ' ' don' t do or say any more kind things to 
 night, or my self-control will be all gone." 
 
 ' ' On the contrary, I shall ask you to do me a kindness. 
 Please sit down on this low chair by the fire. Then I can 
 add the last and best picture to this family gallery." 
 
 She did so hesitatingly, and was provoked to find that her 
 color would rise as he leaned his elbow on the mantel and 
 looked at her intently. She could not meet his eyes, for 
 there was a heart-hunger in them that seemed to touch her 
 very soul. "Oh," she thought, "why doesn't he why 
 can' t he get over it ?' ' and her tears began to flow so fast that 
 he said lightly, 
 
 " That will do, Millie. I won't have that chair moved. 
 Perhaps you think an incipient lawyer has no imagination, 
 but I shall see you there to-morrow night. Come away now 
 from this room of shadows. Your first visit to me has cost 
 you so many tears that you will not come again. ' ' 
 
 ' ' They are not bitter tears. It almost seems as if I had 
 found the treasures I had lost. So far from being saddened, 
 I'm happier than I've been since I lost them at least I 
 should be if I saw you looking better. Roger, you are grow 
 ing thin ; you don' t act like your old self. 
 
 " Well, I won't work late at night any longer if you don't 
 wish me to," he replied evasively.
 
 546 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 " Make me that promise," she pleaded eagerly. 
 
 " Any promise, Millie." 
 
 She wondered al the slight thrill with which her heart re* 
 sponded to his low, deep tones. 
 
 In the library she became a different girl. A strange 
 buoyancy gave animation to her eyes and a delicate color to 
 her face. She did not analyze her feelings. Her determina 
 tion that Roger should have a pleasant evening seemed to 
 her sufficient to account for the shining eyes she saw reflected 
 in a mirror, and her sparkling words. She praised his selec 
 tion of authors, though adding, with a comical look, " You 
 are right in thinking I don't know much about them. The 
 binding is just to my taste, whatever may be the contents of 
 some of these ponderous tomes. There are a good many 
 empty shelves, Roger. ' ' 
 
 " I don't intend to buy books by the cart-load," he re 
 plied. ' ' A library should grow like the man who gathers 
 it" 
 
 " Roger," she said suddenly, " I think I see some fancy 
 work that I recognize. Yes, here is more." Then she 
 darted back into the sitting-room. In a moment she 
 returned exclaiming, " I believe the house is full of my 
 ttork." 
 
 1 ' There is none of your work in the parlors, Millie. ' ' 
 
 She ignored the implied reproach in words, but could not 
 wholly in manner. ' ' So you and Mrs. Wentworth con 
 spired against me, and you got the better of me after all. You 
 were my magnificent patron. How could you look me in 
 the face all those months ? How could you watch my busy 
 fingers, looking meanwhile so innocent and indifferent to my 
 tasks ? I used to steal some hours from sleep to make you 
 little gifts for your bachelor room. They were not fine 
 enough for your lordship, I suppose. Have you given them 
 away?"
 
 HOME. 547 
 
 " They are in my room up- stairs. They are too sacred for 
 use." 
 
 " Who ever heard of such a sentimental brother !" she said, 
 turning abruptly away. 
 
 Mrs. Wheaton was their companion now, and she soon 
 gave the final touches to a delicate little supper, which with 
 some choice flowers she had placed on the table. It was her 
 purpose to wait upon them with the utmost respect and 
 deference, but Mildred drew her into a chair, with a look that 
 repaid the good soul a hundred times for all the past. 
 
 " Roger," she said gayly, " Mrs. Wheaton says you don't 
 eat much. You must make up for all the past this evening. 
 I'm going to help you, and don't you dare to leave any 
 thing. ' ' 
 
 " Very well, I've made my will," he said, with a smiling 
 nod. 
 
 " Oh, don't talk that way. How much shall I give the 
 delicate creature, Mrs. Wheaton ? Look here, Roger, you 
 should not take your meals in a library. You are living on 
 books, and are beginning to look like their half-starved 
 authors. ' ' 
 
 " You are right, Miss Millie. 'Alf the time ven I come 
 to take havay the thinks I finds 'im readin', and the wittles 
 'ardly touched." 
 
 " Men are such foolish, helpless things !" the young girl 
 protested, shaking her head reprovingly at the offender. 
 
 " I must have some company," he replied. 
 
 " Nonsense," she cried, veiling her solicitude under a 
 charming petulance. "Roger, if you don't behave better, 
 you'll be a fit subject for a hospital." 
 
 " If I can be sent to your ward I would ask nothing bet 
 ter," was his quick response. 
 
 Again she was provoked at her rising color, for his dark 
 eyes glowed with an unmistakable meaning. She changed
 
 54 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 the subject by saying, " How many pretty, beautiful, and 
 costly things you have gathered in this room already ! 
 How comes it that you have been so fortunate in your selec 
 tions ?' ' 
 
 " The reason is simple. I have tried to follow your taste. 
 We've been around a great deal together, and I've always 
 made a note of what you admired." 
 
 ' ' Flatterer, ' ' she tried to say severely. 
 
 " I wasn't nattering only explaining." 
 
 " Oh dear !" she thought, " this won't do at all. This 
 homelike house and his loneliness in it will make me ready 
 for any folly. Dear old fellow ! I wish he wasn' t so set, or 
 rather I wish I were old and wrinkled enough to keep house 
 for him now." 
 
 Conscious of a strange compassion and relenting, she 
 hastened her departure, first giving a wistful glance at the 
 serene faces of those so dear to her, who seemed to say, 
 " Millie, we have found the home of which you dreamed. 
 Why are not you with us ?' ' 
 
 Although she had grown morbid in the conviction that she 
 could not, and indeed ought not to marry Roger, she walked 
 home with him that night with an odd little unrest in her heart, 
 and an unexpected discontent with the profession that here 
 tofore had so fully satisfied her with its promise of indepen 
 dence and usefulness. Having spent an hour or two in her 
 duties at the hospital, however, she laughed at herself as one 
 does when the world regains its ordinary and prosaic hues 
 after an absorbing day-dream. Then the hurry and bustle of 
 the few days preceding her graduation almost wholly occu 
 pied her mind. 
 
 A large and brilliant company was present in the evening 
 on which she received her diploma, for the Training School 
 deservedly excited the interest of the best and most philan 
 thropic people in the city. It was already recognized as the
 
 HOME. 549 
 
 means of giving to women one of the noblest and most use 
 ful careers in which they can engage. 
 
 Mildred's fine appearance and excellent record drew to 
 her much attention, and many sought an introduction. 
 Mr. Wentworth beamed on her, and was eloquent on the 
 credit she had brought to him. Old Mr. Arnold and Mrs. 
 Sheppard spoke to her so kindly and gratefully that her eyes 
 grew tearful. Mrs. Wheaton looked on exultantly as the 
 proudest and richest sought the acquaintance of the girl who 
 had so long been like her own child. 
 
 But the first to reach and greet her when the formalities of 
 the evening were over was her old friend who had been Miss 
 Wetheridge. "We have just arrived from along absence 
 abroad," she exclaimed, " and I'm glad and thankful to say 
 that my husband's health is at last restored. For the first 
 year or two he was in such a critical condition that I grew 
 selfish in my absorption in his case, and I neglected you I 
 neglected everybody and everything. Forgive me, Mildred. 
 I have not yet had time to ask your story from Mr. Went 
 worth, but can see from the way he looks at you that you've 
 inflated him with exultation, and now I shall wait to hear all 
 from your own lips, ' ' and she made the girl promise to give 
 her the first hour she could spare. 
 
 In spite of all the claims upon her time and attention, 
 Mildred's eyes often sought Roger's face, and as often were 
 greeted with a bright, smiling glance, for he had determined 
 that nothing should mar her pleasure on this evening. 
 Once, however, when he thought himself unobserved, she 
 saw a look of weariness and dejection that smote her heart. 
 
 When the evening was quite well advanced she came to 
 him and said, " Won't you walk with me a little in this hall 
 way, where we can be somewhat by ourselves ? It so happens 
 that I must go on duty in a few moments, and exchange this 
 bright scene for a dim hospital ward ; but I love my calling,
 
 55 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Roger, and never has it seemed so noble as on this evening 
 while listening to the physician who addressed us. There is 
 such a deep satisfaction in relieving pain and rescuing life, 
 or at least in trying to do so ; and then one often has a 
 chance to say words that may bring lasting comfort. Al 
 though I am without a home myself, you do not blame me 
 that I am glad it is my mission to aid in driving awaf 
 shadows and fear from other homes ?' ' 
 
 " I am homeless, too, Millie." 
 
 " You ! in that beautiful house, with so many that you 
 love looking down upon you ?" 
 
 ' ' Walls and furniture cannot make a home ; neither can 
 painted shadows of those far away. I say, Millie, how sick 
 must a fellow be in order to have a trained nurse ?" 
 
 She turned a swift, anxious glance upon him. " Roger, 
 tell me honestly," she said, " are you well ?" 
 
 " I don't know, " he replied, in a low tone ; " I fear I'll 
 make you ashamed of me. I didn't mean to be so weak, 
 but I'm all unstrung to-night. I'm losing courage losing 
 zest in life. I seem to have everything, and my friends con 
 sider me one of the luckiest of men. But all I have 
 oppresses me and makes me more lonely. When I was 
 sharing your sorrows and poverty, I was tenfold happier than 
 I am now. I live in a place haunted by ghosts, and every 
 thing in life appears illusive. I feel to-night as if I were los 
 ing you. Your professional duties will take you here and 
 there, where I cannot see you very often. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Roger, you trouble me greatly. You are not well at all, 
 and your extreme morbidness proves it. ' ' 
 
 " I know it's very unmanly to cloud your bright evening, 
 but my depression has been growing so long and steadily 
 that I can't seem to control it any more. There, Millie, the 
 lady superintendent is looking for you. Don't worry. You 
 medical and scientific people know that it is nothing but a
 
 HOME. 55* 
 
 torpid liver Perhaps I may be ill enough to have a trained 
 nurse. You see I am playing a deep game, ' ' and with an 
 attempt at a hearty laugh he said good-night, and she was 
 compelled to hasten away, but it was with a burdened, anx 
 ious mind. 
 
 A few moments later she entered on her duties in one of 
 the surgical wards, performing them accurately from habit, 
 but mechanically, for her thoughts were far absent. It 
 seemed to her that she was failing one who had never failed 
 her, and her self-reproach and disquietude grew stronger 
 every moment. " After all he has been to me, can I leave 
 him to an unhappy life ?" was the definite question that now 
 presented itself. At last, in a respite from her tasks, she sat 
 down and thought deeply. 
 
 Roger, having placed Mrs. Wheaton in a carriage, was 
 about to follow on foot, when Mr. Wentworth claimed his 
 attention for a time. At last, after the majority of the guests 
 had departed, he sallied forth and walked listlessly in the 
 frosty air that once had made his step so quick and elastic. 
 He had not gone very far before he heard the sound of 
 galloping horses, then the voices of women crying for help. 
 Turning back he saw a carriage coming toward him at furi 
 ous speed. A sudden recklessness was mingled with his im 
 pulse to save those in extreme peril, and he rushed from the 
 sidewalk, sprang and caught with his whole weight the head 
 gear of the horse nearest to him. His impetuous onset com 
 bined with his weight checked the animal somewhat, and be 
 fore the other horse could drag him very far, a policeman 
 came to his aid, dealing a staggering blow behind the beast's 
 ear with his club, then catching the rein. 
 
 Roger's right arm was so badly strained that it seemed to 
 fail him, and before he could get out of the way, the rearing 
 horse he was trying to hold struck him down and trampled 
 upon him. He was snatched out from under the iron-shod
 
 55 2 WITHOUT A HOME, 
 
 hoofs by the fast gathering crowd, but found himself unable 
 to rise. 
 
 ' ' Take me to Bellevue, ' ' he said decisively. 
 
 The hospital was not far away, and yet before an ambu 
 lance could reach him he felt very faint. 
 
 Mildred sat in her little room that was partitioned off from 
 the ward. Her eyes were wide and earnest, but that which 
 she saw was not present to their vision. 
 
 Suddenly there were four sharp strokes of the bell from the 
 hospital gate, and she started slightly out of her reverie, for 
 the imperative summons indicated a surgical case which 
 might come under her care. There was something so ab 
 sorbing in the character of her thoughts, however, that she 
 scarcely heeded the fact that an ambulance dashed in, and 
 that the form of a man was lifted out and carried into the 
 central office. She saw all this obscurely from her window, 
 but such scenes had become too familiar to check a deep 
 current of thought. When, a few moments later, the male 
 orderly connected with the ward entered and said, " Miss 
 Jocelyn, I've been down and seen the books, and accordin' 
 to my reckonin' we'll have that case," she sprang up with 
 alacrity, and began assuring herself that every appliance that 
 might be needed was in readiness. " I'm glad I must be 
 busy," she murmured, "for I'm so bewildered by my 
 thoughts and impulses in Roger's behalf, that it's well I must 
 banish them until I can grow calm and learn what is right. ' ' 
 
 The orderly was right, and the "case" just brought in 
 was speedily carried up on the elevator and borne toward the 
 ward under her charge. With the celerity of well-trained 
 hands she had prepared everything and directed that her new 
 charge should be placed on a cot near her room. She then 
 advanced to learn the condition of the injured man. After 
 a single glance she sprang forward, crying, 
 
 " Oh, merciful Heaven ! it's Roger 1"
 
 HOME. 553 
 
 " You are acquainted with him then ?" asked the surgeon 
 who had accompanied the ambulance, with much interest. 
 
 " He's my brother he's the best friend I have in the 
 world. Oh, be quick here. Gently now. O God, grant 
 his life ! Oh, oh, he's unconscious ; his coat is soaked with 
 blood but his heart is beating. He will, oh, he will live ; 
 will he not?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I think so, but the case was so serious that I 
 followed. You had better summon the surgeon in charge 
 of this division, while I and the orderly restore him to con 
 sciousness and prepare him for treatment. ' ' 
 
 Before he ceased speaking Mildred was far on her way to 
 seek the additional aid. 
 
 When she returned Roger's sleeve had been removed, 
 revealing an ugly wound in the lower part of his left arm, 
 cut by the cork of a horseshoe, made long and sharp because 
 of the iciness of the streets. A tourniquet had been ap 
 plied to the upper part of the arm to prevent further hemor 
 rhage, and under the administration of stimulants he was 
 giving signs of returning consciousness. 
 
 The surgeon in charge of the division soon arrived, and 
 every effort of modern skill was made in the patient's be 
 half. Bottles of hot water were placed around his chilled 
 and blood-drained form, and spirits were injected hypoder- 
 mically into his system. The fair young nurse stood a little in 
 the background, trembling in her intense anxiety, and yet 
 so trained and disciplined that with the precision of a veteran 
 she could obey the slightest sign from the attendant sur 
 geons. ' ' He never failed me, ' ' she thought ; ' ' and if 
 loving care can save his life he shall have it night and day." 
 
 At last Roger knew her, and smiled contentedly ; then 
 closed his eyes in almost mortal weariness and weakness. 
 As far as he was able to think at all, he scarcely cared 
 whether he lived or died, since Mildred was near him.
 
 554 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 The physicians, after as thorough examination as was pos 
 sible, and doing everything in their power, left him with 
 hopeful words. The most serious features in the case were 
 his loss of blood and consequent great exhaustion. The 
 division surgeon said that the chief danger lay in renewed 
 hemorrhage, and should it occur he must be sent for at once, 
 and then he left the patient to Mildred's care, with direc 
 tions as to stimulants and nourishment. 
 
 Mildred would not let Roger speak, and he lay in a 
 dreamy, half-waking condition of emire content. As she sat 
 beside him holding his hand, she was no longer in doubt. 
 " My ' stupid old heart/ as Belle called it, is awake at last," 
 she thought. " Oh, how awful would be my desolation if 
 he should die ! Now I know what he is to me. I loved 
 Vinton as a girl ; I love Roger as a woman. Oh, how 
 gladly I'd take his place ! What could I not sacrifice for 
 him ! Now I know what he has suffered in his loneliness. 
 I understand him at last. I was hoping he would get over 
 it as if I could ever get over this ! He said he was losing 
 his zest in life. Oh, what an intolerable burden would his 
 loss make of life for me ! O God, spare him ; surely such 
 love as this cannot be given to two human souls to be poured 
 out like water on the rock of a pitiless fate. ' ' 
 
 "Millie," said Roger faintly, "your hand seems alive, 
 and its pulsations send little thrills direct to my heart. Were 
 it not for your hand I would think my body already dead." 
 
 " Oh, Roger," she murmured, pressing her lips on his 
 hand, ' ' would to God I could put my blood into your veins. 
 Roger, dear beyond all words, don' t fail me, now that I need 
 you as never before. Don't speak, don't move. Just rest 
 and gain. Hush, hush. Oh, be quiet ! I won' t leave you 
 until you are stronger, and I'll always be within call." 
 
 " I' 11 mind, Millie. I was never more contented in my life. 
 - Toward morning he seemed better and stronger, and she
 
 HOME. 555 
 
 left him a few moments to attend to some other duties. 
 When she returned she saw to her horror that hemorrhage 
 had taken place, and that his arm was bleeding rapidly. She 
 sprang to his side, and with trained skill pressed her fingers 
 on the brachial artery, thus stopping further loss of blood in 
 stantly. Then calling to the orderly, she told him to lose 
 not a second in summoning the surgeon. 
 
 Roger looked up into her terror-stricken face, and said 
 quietly, ' ' Millie, I' m not afraid to die. Indeed I half think 
 it's best. I couldn't go on in the old way much longer " 
 
 " Hush, hush," she whispered. 
 
 " No," he said decisively, " my mission to you is fin 
 ished. You will be an angel of mercy all your days, but I 
 find that after all my ambitious dreams I' m but an ordinary 
 man. You are stronger, nobler than I am. You are a sol 
 dier that will never be defeated. You think to save my life 
 by holding an artery, but the wound that was killing me is 
 in my heart. I don't blame you, Millie I'm weak I'm 
 talking at random " 
 
 " Roger, Roger, I'm not a soldier. I am a weak, loving 
 woman. I love you with my whole heart and soul, and if 
 you should not recover you will blot the sun out of my sky. 
 I now know what you are to me. I knew it the moment I 
 saw your unconscious face. Roger, I love you now with 
 a love like your own only it must be greater, stronger, 
 deeper ; I love you as a woman only can love. In mercy 
 to me, rally and live live/" 
 
 He looked at her earnestly a moment, and then a glad 
 smile lighted up his face. 
 
 "I'll live now," he said quietly. "I should be dead 
 indeed did I not respond to that appeal. ' ' 
 
 The surgeon appeared speedily, and again took up and 
 tied the artery, giving stimulants liberally. Roger was soon 
 sleeping with a quietude and rest in his face that assured
 
 55 6 WITHOUT A HOME. 
 
 Mildred that her words had brought balm and healing 
 to a wound beyond the physician's skill, and that he would 
 recover. And he did gain hourly from the time she gave him 
 the hope for which he had so long and so patiently waited. 
 It must be admitted that he played the invalid somewhat, for 
 he was extremely reluctant to leave the hospital until the 
 period of Mildred's duties expired. 
 
 A few months later, with Mrs. Heartwold the Miss 
 Wetheridge of former days by her side, she was driven to 
 Roger's house her home now. The parlors were no longer 
 empty, and she had furnished them with her own refined 
 and delicate taste. But not in the midst of their beauty and 
 spaciousness was she married. Mr. Wentworth stood be 
 neath the portraits of her kindred, and with their dear faces 
 smiling upon her she gave herself to Roger. Those she 
 loved best stood around her, and there was a peace and rest 
 in her heart that was beyond joy. 
 
 When all were gone, Roger wheeled the low chair to its 
 old place beside the glowing fire, and said, 
 
 " Millie, at last we both have a home. See how Belle is 
 smiling at us." 
 
 ' ' Dear sister Belle, ' ' Mildred murmured, ' ' her words have 
 come true. She said, Roger, when I was fool enough to 
 detest you, that you ' would win me yet, ' and you have all 
 there is of me. ' ' 
 
 Roger went and stood before the young girl's smiling face, 
 saying earnestly, 
 
 " Dear little Belle, ' we shall have good times together yet,' 
 or else the human heart with its purest love and deepest 
 yearning is a lie. ' ' 
 
 Then turning, he took his wife in his arms and said, 
 " Millie darling, we shall never be without a home again. 
 Please God it shall be here until we find the better home of 
 Heaven."
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 CHRISTIAN men and women of New York, you not the shop 
 keepers are chiefly to blame for the barbarous practice of com 
 pelling women, often but growing girls, to stand from morning 
 until evening, and often till late in the night. The supreme 
 motive of the majority of the men who enforce this inhuman 
 regulation is to make money. Some are kind-hearted enough 
 to be very willing that their saleswomen should sit down if 
 their customers would tolerate the practice, and others are so 
 humane that they grant the privilege without saying, By your 
 leave, to their patrons. 
 
 There is no doubt where the, main responsibility should be 
 placed in this case. 
 
 Were even the intoxicated drayman in charge of a shop, 
 when sober he would have sufficient sense not to take a course 
 that would drive from him the patronage of the " best and 
 wealthiest people in town." Upon no class could public 
 opinion make itself felt more completely and quickly than 
 upon retail merchants. If the people had the humanity to 
 say, We will not buy a dime's worth at establishments that 
 insist upon a course at once so unnatural and cruel, the evil 
 would be remedied speedily. Employers declare that they 
 maintain the regulation because so many of their patrons re 
 quire that the saleswoman shall always be standing and ready 
 to receive them. It is difficult to accept this statement, but 
 the truth that the shops wherein the rule of standing is most 
 rigorously enforced are as well patronized as others is scarcely 
 a less serious indictment, and it is also a depressing proof of 
 the strange apathy on the question. 
 
 No labored logic is needed to prove the inherent barbarity 
 of the practice. Let any man or woman even the strongest 
 try to stand as long as these frail, underfed girls are re-
 
 558 APPENDIX. 
 
 quired to be upon their feet, and he or she will have a dem 
 onstration that can never be forgotten. In addition, con 
 sider the almost continual strain on the mind in explaining 
 about the goods and in recommending them, in making out 
 tickets of purchase correctly while knowing that any er 
 rors will be charged against their slender earnings, or more 
 than made good by fines. What is worse, the organs of 
 speech are in almost constant exercise, and all this in the 
 midst of more or less confusion. The clergyman, the lec 
 turer, is exhausted after an hour of speech. Why are not 
 their thunders directed against the inhumanity of compelling 
 women to spend ten or twelve hours of speech upon their feet ? 
 The brutal drayman was arrested because he was inflicting 
 pain on a sentient being. Is not a woman a sentient being ? 
 and is any one so ignorant of physiology as not to have some 
 comprehension of the evils which must result in most cases 
 from compelling women often too young to be mature to 
 stand, under the trying circumstances that have been de 
 scribed ? 
 
 An eminent physician in New York told me that ten out of 
 twelve must eventually lose their health ; and a proprietor of 
 one of the shops admitted to me that the girls did suffer this 
 irreparable loss, and that it would be better for them if they 
 went out to service. 
 
 The fact that cashiers who sit all day suffer more than those 
 who stand proves nothing against the wrong of the latter 
 practice. It only shows that the imperative law of nature, 
 especially for the young, is change, variety. Why not accept 
 the fact, and be as considerate of the rights of women as of 
 horses, dogs, and cats ? While making my investigations on 
 this subject, I asked a gentleman who was in charge of one 
 of the largest retail shops in the city, on what principle he 
 dealt with this question. "On the principle of humanity,''' 
 he replied. " I have studied hygienic science, and know 
 that a woman can't stand continuously except at the cost of 
 serious ill-health." 
 
 Later I asked the proprietor if he did not think that his 
 humanity was also the best business policy, for the reason that
 
 APPENDIX, 559 
 
 his employes were in a better condition to attend to their 
 duties. 
 
 " No," he said ; " on strict business principles I would re 
 quire constant standing ; but this has no weight with me, in 
 view of the inhumanity of such a rule. If I had the room for 
 it in the store, I'd give all my employes a good slice of roast 
 beef at noon ; but I have not, and therefore I give them plenty 
 of time for a good lunch." 
 
 The manager of another establishment, which was fur 
 nished with ample means of rest for the girls, said to me, 
 " A man that compels a girl to stand all day ought to be 
 flogged." 
 
 He also showed me a clean, comfortable place in the base 
 ment in which the girls ate their lunches. It was supplied 
 with a large cooking-stove, with a woman in constant attend 
 ance. Each girl had her own tea- or coffee-pot, and time was 
 ^iven for a substantial and wholesome meal. I would rather 
 pay ten per cent more for goods at such shops than to buy 
 them at others where women are treated as the cheapest kind 
 of machines, that are easily replaced when broken down. 
 
 Granting, for the sake of argument, that customers may not 
 be waited on quite so promptly, and that the impression of a 
 brisk business may not be given if many of the girls are 
 seated, these are not sufficient reasons for inflicting torment 
 on those who earn their bread in shops. I do not and cannot 
 believe, however, that the rule is to the advantage of either 
 employer or customer in the long run. It is not common- 
 sense that a girl, wearied almost beyond endurance, and dis 
 tracted by pain, can give that pleasant, thoughtful attention 
 to the purchaser which she could bestow were she in a normal 
 condition. At very slight expense the proprietors of large 
 shops could give all their employe's a generous plate of soup 
 and a cup of good tea or coffee. Many bring meagre and 
 unwholesome lunches ; more dine on cake, pastry, and con 
 fectionery. These ill-taught girls are just as prone to sin 
 against their bodies as the better taught children of the rich. 
 If employers would give them something substantial at mid 
 day, and furnish small bracket seats which could be pulled
 
 560 APPENDIX, 
 
 out and pushed back within a second of time, they would find 
 their business sustained by a corps of comfortable, cheerful, 
 healthful employe's ; and such a humane, sensible policy cer 
 tainly ought to be sustained by all who have any sympathy 
 with Mr. Bergh. 
 
 The belief of many, that the majority of the girls are broken 
 down by dissipation, is as superficial as it is unjust. Un 
 doubtedly, many do carry their evening recreation to an in 
 jurious excess, and some place themselves in the way of temp 
 tations which they have not the strength to resist ; but every 
 physician knows that some recreation, some relief from the 
 monotony of their hard life, is essential. Otherwise, they 
 would grow morbid in mind as well as enfeebled in body. 
 The crying shame is that there are so few places where these 
 girls can go from their crowded tenement homes and find 
 innocent entertainment. Their dissipations are scarcely more 
 questionable, though not so elegantly veneered, as those of 
 the fashionable, nor are the moral and physical effects much 
 worse. But comparatively few would go to places of ill- 
 repute could they find harmless amusements suited to their 
 intelligence and taste. After much investigation, I am satis 
 fied that in point of morals the working-women of New York 
 compare favorably with any class in the world. To those 
 who do not stand aloof and surmise evil, but who acquaint 
 themselves with the facts, it is a source of constant wonder 
 that in their hard and often desperate struggle for bread they 
 still maintain so high a standard. 
 
 Tenement life with scanty income involves many shadows 
 at best, but in the name of manhood I protest against taking 
 advantage of the need of bread to inflict years of pain and 
 premature death. We all are involved in this wrong to the 
 degree that we sustain establishments from which a girl is 
 discharged if she does not or cannot obey a rule which it 
 would be torture for us to keep. 
 
 I shall be glad, indeed, if these words hasten by one hour 
 the time when from the temple of human industry all trad 
 ers shall be driven out who thrive on the agonies of girls as 
 frail and impoverished as Mildred Jocelyn.
 
 305 
 
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