OUR FORTUNE.
the time that I had my toast buttered and a cup
of tea poured out, he was ready to accompany
me upon my errand.
‘My customary tap was answered by cheerful “Come in;” and we were advancing into the room, when, catching sight of Harry, the old man sprung up in the bed with unlooked-for energy, and throwing out his hands, as though to ward off danger, exclaimed,
“Go back! Go away!” then turning to me, “Make him go! Ob! in pity, make him go!”
“Hospitable old party, I must say!” muttered Harry, while I hurried forward to soothe the sick man.
It's only my husband,” I said. “He came up to see you.”
“Oh! send him away! Send him away!" he continued to cry, the flush of excitement graw- ing deeper upon his withered face; and seeing that there was no use in trying to remonstrate, urged Harry to go down.
«It's the fever, you know," I whispered. ought to have prepared him for your coming; and gently closing the door after him, I re- turned to the bedside to try, by cheerful sym- pathy, to undo the evil which I feared would result from my thoughtlessness.
Going down stairs a few minutes later, I found baby still asleep, and Harry pacing the floor in no enviable mood. He came forward as I entered, and placed his hands upon my shoulders.
“Now, Bessie,” he said, gravely, “this thing!
depression of that fall and winter, will understand how fruitless were his best endeavors,
and how our hearts grew gradually sicker and
sicker under the blighting shadow of bope deferred.
It pains me even yet when I think of the evenings when he used to come home, foot-sore and worn with fatigue, from his useless jour- neyings in search of work. Unused as he was to much bodily exertion, this protracted exer- cise told upon his health return, he waa never too tired to have a romp with Vivia, and merry words, with prophesies of better luck on the morrow, for me. I knew that this cheerfulness was only assumed for my sake, that grim despair was beginning to tug at his heart-strings.
It wae o long, weary autumn to us. I had been raised in the country, and as imagination pictured the abundance there at that season— the ripened cornfields, where the great, yellow pumpkins lay like hugo bulls of gold, the mellow orchards, and the woods teeming with nuts —it seemed incredible that any of God’s crea- tures should want, But, alas! it wast fast be- coming so with us.
Meanwhile, the old attic-lodger pursued the even tenor of his way. Kind and polite when I chanced to meet him, but quiet and unobtrusive as ever. Of late I fancied that there had come to be a strange buoyancy in his step, and a light in his eye, such as we see in one who nears a longed-for goal; but I considered that it might be only in contrast to my own despondency. Occasionally he had slipped a quaintly-carved
and though, on his
has gone far enough. No honest man wont have acted in that way—and I am now fully ; convinced of what I was only suspicions hefore. } toy into Vivia's little hand when she happened therefore, lot this be the end of it. Understand {to be out in the ball; but ho setdom eame to me, Bessie, don’t you go up there again.” four room. Jt was, therefore, with some sur- J did go a few times, neverthelevs. T don’t ; priso thnt, hearing @ knock one dny, I epened hold up my disohedience as a precedent for! the door and found him atunding there, holding, others; but how enald [ forsake my old protege! a miniature wind-mill with gayly painted suils withoul @ word? Especially when he apologized | 1 bia band. with tears in his eyes for his rudeness ta my! ‘It's for baby,” he said, depreciatingly, husband. But I did not transgress very often, | glancing at my face. for my patient, who was already mending, grew $ I tried to thank him, but my voiee faited, for better fasts things resumed their former rou-' my heart was heavy within me. Things had tine, and before autimna we had trouble of our! deen gradually grawing worse with us, and own, Sonly that morning Marry and T had decided ed Te was not that [
The great mercantile honse, where Harry held ! that our bumble rooms must soon he exchang the position of book-keeper, was broken up by! for yet plaincr lodgings. the death of the head of the firm, and my hus-{ minded the change Ko much, for I knew thut it band was thereby thrown out of employment. } was not the surroundings. but the hearts within, At frst this did not seem anch o very heavy} thit made a home any place; but it was as the misfortune, for, with his good reputation and { first step downward that F dreaded it.
I think the old man understood my condition at once, for he came in, and gently closing the door behind him, walked over to the window.
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