Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 13, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 17 September 1887 — Page 3

THE MAH„

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

A Woman Who Failed.

{Be&aie Chandler, in American Magazi«e.] When Molly Oraliam married Irving Tracy, they lived for a time in picturesque poverty. Now picturesque poverty is not a bad thing to live in it is not uncomfortable, and is very apt to be jolly. It is as different from true poverty, "that in its turn in from squalor. They are all steps in the stairway, which leads from absolute starvation to millionairelom. The trouble with picturesque poverty is tnat it rarely lasts. It is apt to make progress into the next step of being well-to-do, or to sink slowly into the region of real want. The latter direction threatened the Tracysat the end of the second year after their marriage.

Irviocr Trscy was si doctor, who had apparently everv requisite for a successful career. He was young and strong, -devoted to his profession and more than ordinarily clever. He was full of enthusiasm and energy, and looked upon the world as his oyster," which he was -determined to open as speedily as possible.

He was culled "a very promising young man," by the elder citizens of Greenville whither ho had come about three years before his marriage. During that time he had Hucceeded in gaining a considerable practice. He had a frank, pleasant wav, which soon made him popular, and tho' older doctors had been cordial to him, even while they laughed a little at bis very progressive ways and modern Hanitary notions.

Everv one in Greenville was glad when he married Molly Graham, for she was iw popular in her way as he was in his.

She did not live in Greenville, but had come there for several summers to visit her schoolmate, Anna Carter. She was an orphan, with a little sum of money, which had been enough to clothe and educate her, and she had stayed at her

boarding-school

In fact, Molly and ho wero so much in love with each other and seemed to care so little about their slim purees, that older people, who had, somo of them, tried tho experiment of living on bread and choose and kisses, watched them with pity and envy.

Irving rented a small picturesque cottage, painted red, with olive green blinds and drew upon his slender store to furnish it. Molly took apart of her money, too, and together they made the little homo very bright and cosy.

She gave pretty little dinners, and jolly littlo luncheans. At her first dinner she forgot to have the legs, of her turkey tied down aud it kickod wildly into Judge Carter's

V*

after she was graduated,

teaching tho younger c'a et. She was very pretty, though with a delicate, undecided sort of prottiness, that might possibly develop as she grew older into real beauty, or might on the contrary. Mho wsh ft Kroat favorite and had many friends and at least two lovers in Greenville, but though John Tarter was linan oially a much bettor match than Dr. Tracy, Mollv had not hesitated a minute between lovo and money, ller marraige was for her its full of sentiment as any romance that the poets sing about. She told Anna Carter that she would rather marry Irving Tracy and live in a hut on the prairie, than marry

any

she know. And

other man

Anna

was not unkind

enough to remind her that she knew few men any way and had never even been in. much loss lived in, a hut, or on

Vrving loved her in the intense, wholehearted devoted way, that is just at present, a littlo out of fashion. She was for hlni "tho worlds one woman," Ho could no more have analyzed his omotions concerning her than he could bayo criticised Molly herself. That she could lovo him, seomod to him as surprising as it was beatific, but|that loving him sho should marry him, not only wlllingIv, but gladly, in spito of his poverty, •did not seem to him strange at all. I afraid we'll be poor, M»lly, for a few years," said ho, "but if I only have you 1 have everything in tho world I want," and he meant every word he said.

very

guests,

face, but the

spray of golden-rod beside his plate, ought to have made up to him for that. Tho macaroni was badly burnt too, but it was nerved in tho scooped-out half of a choose, and tho guests eyed it suspiciously and ate it warily. When guests act tfko that, a liostoss always feels that she lias at least furnishod a uovelty. and Mollv regarded the macaroni as a success,"in spite of its burnt flavor. So the law of compensation prevailed in Molly's household, and tho young people of Greenville found it charming. A few of the oldor ones thought it would be just as well, if it were not quite so free and easv, and Mrs. SeofieUl, the wife of the Presbyterian minister, plainly said it would be better if Molly knew "more About cooking and less about decorating." She said this spitefully, in nasal tones, for she had taken an awful cold at Mollv's last dinner, from sitting near the pantry door. There was a small Japanese screen in front of it, which did not keep out the draught, aud Mr. Scotield at the same time contracted bronchitis, from being tacked up against the grate where his back was nearly broiled. Mollv's dinner-room was small, but she did the best that she could with her

and seldom injured two members

of a family at one time. Irving was very proud of her, and thought bar a wonderful housekeeper and manager. He was as much in love «s when he married her, though, to be euro, ho had detected a few weak spots in her character. Hut ho treated them AS a good skater does thin ice, glided •over them as soon as possible, and tried in each instance not to go near that place again.

At the end of the second year things l*}g*n to wear out in the Traeys' home. Manv of the wedding-presents, which had done so much toward beautifying it, were broken, and others had lost iheir freshness.

The pretty cretonne, which Molly had used so lavishly for curtains and uphol»terv, had fadeS, and the colored cautonfianiiel, which had supplemented eretonne, looked even more forlorn* It had faded and ftuied up too. The were beginning to be a UtUe shabby, and the cheap furniture, which had been «o prettv when new, looked

r**n®r

tanged and marred. A good deal of the damage was due to the baby, who was of a particularly destructive variety, lie loved to trv to pull himself up by the small tables, which he only succeeded in tipping over on top of him with all that they held. He was large and active, and kicked things a good deal, and for a child who was kept reasonably clean. It aeemed as if he left the most extrmordlnarv number of dirty finger-marks around. He was always under-foot, for ihev could not aford a nurse, and Molly had attempted to take care of him her-

They were still poor, and aeemed to oorer. Irving Tracy had not auoas well as he hoped. It was not

his fault he had worked early and late, but two new physicians had come to Greenville, and there were so many there now, that practice was very much divided. Then, too, he worked a great deal among the poor, where he got little or no pay and although many a time he resolved that he would not give away his services again—that he owed it to himself not to do thus—yet he found, when some poor Irishwoman sent for him, in ber hour of\riai, or some daylaborer on the railroad broke his leg, that he forget his resolutions and took as good care of the sufferers as if they were the best-paying patients on his bookSe

He had a brother in Missouri, a farmer, whose farm was mortgaged. This brother was sick for along time and could not pay his interest, andhis farm was threatened with foreclosure. He wrote to Irving about it, and he and Molly agreed that they must help. It was a hard pull for them, but if they did not do it, the brother would lose everything.

Then, spite of Molly's managing, all the household expenses had been larger than they had expected. All these causes haa kept them poor, and at the end of two years Irving Tracy felt like a strong swimmer who was getting a little tired struggling against the tide, or like a soldier who has fought for hours and finds the combat as thick around him as though just begun.

Molly had grown fery quiet. The gloss was wearing off more things than the furniture. She was disappointed, and in her heart she blamed her husband. She still loved him, but it was not, as she herself had found out, with the love that "feareth all things, believeth all things, and hoped all things."

It had been rather pleasant to manage her little home at first and contrive pretty effects on a small outlay, with her girl friends as an admiring audience and Irving as a humble, adoring subject. But the pinch of poverty seemed to have tightened into a steady grip. Then the baby was a great disturber, for Molly was not fond of children. She had not the knack.of systematizing and ordering her baby did not fit in anywhere, or with any thing else. Molly had, as she said, "just to let things go and take care of him." This "letting go" was not a very satisfactory process. Molly gave fewer dinners now, and those she had were apt to be rather jerky and spasmodic. The baby woke up during one once, and screamed so that he had to come to the table in his night-gown.

Molly cried after this dinner and said she would never give another. She said thore was "no use in trying to do anything or be anybody," and then she thumped the baby rather hard, and immediately repented and kissed him, while Irving watched her, feeling like a guilty thing, and as if he were personally responsible for it all.

She was waiting for hor husband one night. She was ripping up an old dress and doing it with as little noise as possible, for the baby was asleep in his carriage in front of her. She had a long string tied to the handle of the carriage, and if he moved or cried she shoved the carried to the other side of the room and drew it back again by the string.

Irving's supper was keeping hot and drying up, on a plate in tho heater, and his place was set on the dinner-room table. He had gone to a medical convention, but she expected him home tonight.

Presently she heard his step, and the front door opened with a bang. "Well, Mollv," he began, as he came in, but she said, "husli,'' and held up a warning hand, and sent the baby on a Hying trip across the room.

When one comes out of the cold prepared to give or receive a cordial greeting, there is something very subduing in a hushed voice. One cannot be hearty in a whisper.

He came around the table and kissed Molly quickly. "You haven't had your supper, have you?" she asked softly. "I will get it for you."

She left the room, and soon motioned for him to come. She sat down beside him while he ate. "Well," she asked, "how did the convention go?" "Oh, well enough," he tried to answer carelessly, but she instantly detected the effort. "Did anything happen?" she asked quickly. "Yes," he answered doggedly, "I had a row with Dr. Porter." "Oh, Irving!" she gasped, "what about?"

Well, it was the old feud between the old and new code. Tho discussion broke out fiercely. I cannot believe as they do I will not be bound by their prejudices. Dr. Porter called me a name and spoke to me In atone he had no business to use. and I answered him. I cannot help it if he is oldest, most influential doe tor in the State I cannot let anybody scold me as if I were a schoolboy." •Oh, Irving!" she said again. 'Yes, I know it was injudicious and all that but, Molly, you want me to speak the truth, don't you? If I cannot believe a thing, you don't want me to sit still and pretend I do, just for the sake of my practice?"

No, Irving," she said, sadly, "I want you to do always what yon think is right." But thore were tears in hereyes and a quaver in her voice when she spoke. "Poor little Molly!" he said, gently "vou have had a hard time, little girl, and I'm sorry for you." He put his arm around her and smoothed her hair. She began to cry softly, for she was one of those women who cry easily. He had thought it verv touching and pathetic at first, but it tired him a little now.

They went back into the room where the baby was, and satdown. Molly took up her ripping again. Her husband looked at her earnestly. "Molly," he said, "I wish you didn't feel so blue over this. It won't hurt me much if I am on speaking terms with Dr. Porter."

She did not answer. "Come," he said, cheerfully "we've had an awful tough time, Mollv, I know but we've got each other ana the little fellow there, and If we only keep close together, I'm sure we'll poll through yet*"

Molly had found a thread that ripped, and was pulling it out intently. She did not answer, but her ltp quivered. "If you would only have a little faith, Molly, you don't know how it would help me."

Have faith In what?" she asked in a voice* "Why, in everything—in oar life, in love, in me. I'm not going to grub along like this always. Any man who tries as hard and as faithfully as I do, will. I shall be able to make a place in the world for myself and for yon, too, Molly. Some time I shall give yon all the things you want—money, position and a beautiful home."

Her sad face brightened a little. "Oh, you really think you will?" she asked. "Think? I kmom it," he said, with decision "but you must help me, Molly."

How can 1 help yon?" Why, by loving me, and being always sweet and cheerful. If I could see your tsee as bright as it was when I married yon. it would be worth everything to me."

He was silent a minute, and then ill

•4I don't know perhaps I'm a weak sort of a man, after all but you can do anything with me, Molly. When I:feel that you are happy ana have faith in me. I am strong and full of courage—I can slay my thousands, like David. But when you get blue and sad and hopeless, I feel as if life wasn't worth living. I love you too much, little girl that's the trouble."

Molly smiled she liked to be adored. "I will try, Irving," she said, "to have more faith and hope."

She meant to try, and for a while she did, but she was one of those women who see plainly what is right, and yet have no strength to do it. Her theories and ideas were the highest and purest, and she seldom was able to translate them into everyday action.

In a moment of enthusiasm, Molly Tracy might have gone to the stake as a martyr, but she could not master and control herself enough to be always a pleasant person to live with. She looked back upon her girlhood and wondered if it were possible that she was the same woman she was so different from what she had thought she would be. She was disappointed in herself, and the consciousness that she had not succeeded was a constant source of depression. She had meant to be an ideal wife, but the character was more difficult than she thought. She had meant to be an ideal mother, but she had not counted on the hundred little daily acts of patience and unselfishness that it implied. The poor little baby was sometimes jerked and twitched,"not that Molly did not love it, or that she fheant to be unkind, but she was nervous, impatient,

and

She and her husband had had many such talks, and they always ended as this had done, in his trying to help and encourage her. He felt vaguely that his married life was not all that he had hoped, but he confronted himself with the thought that when they had once passed beyond these troubled waters and had come to smoother sailing all would go well.

But in spite of his most earnest efforts he did not get on. His quarrel with Dr. Porter affected his practice conservative people were a little shy of trusting the care of their health to a young man who had openly placed himself in opposition to the oldest practitioners in that part of the State. Then, Irving's manner, which had formerly been so pleasant, was now sometimes objectionable. There is no profession that depends so much upon a man's personality as that of a physician. He must be always attentive and sympathetic, always encouraging and cheerful. He must never seem to think of himself or to have any interests outside of his patients' symptoms.

Irving, while he was brave before Molly for her sake, had many an hour of discouragement and gloom, ana was apt when despondent to turn off uninteresting cases with the few curt words which were all that seemed absolutely necessary.

His patients complained, not that he did not cure them, but that he seemed to take no interest in them.

It was about three years after their marriage, and when the second baby was only a few weeks old, that the bank in New York in which was Molly's little fortune failed suddenly. Irving did not let heu-know at first, but when she was stronger he told her as gently as he could.

It was a great blow for poor Molly, and she cried until the soft head of the little baby in her arms was quite wet. "Molly," said her husband, "suppose we move away from Greenville we've had bad luck ever since we've lived here. Suppose we leave it behind, and try again in anew place."

He said this partly because he really thought that they might better their fortunes by moving, and partly because he fancied that since they had grown so poor, Molly shrunk,from meeting her old friends, aqd -that old associations gave her more pain than pleasure. "Where shall we go?" asked Molly hopelessly. "Suppose we try Pittsburgh it is a larger, busier place, and I have friends there. Molly, I think you would like it better." "Jt is all the same to me," said Molly. "I only wish I could go to my grave and be done with it." "Oh, Molly, how can you talk like that!" he said "you don't know how you hurt me." "I don't mean to hurt you," she said, wearily "but I am tired out. It is struggle, struggle, struggle, and I don't see any light ahead. It seems as if there were a curse resting on us. I am sick and tired of it all, and I wish it were ended."

He turned very white. When a woman says such things as these to the man who loves her, she kills not only his happiness, but his love. "Don't talk like that, Molly," he said, huskily: "it is the same as saying that you wish you had never married me." "Well, 1 do," said Molly, desperately.

He looked at her sadly. "Poor Molly I" he said, and then, after standing silent for a few moments, he left her. He did not kiss her when he went, and she did not miss it.

They moved to Pittsburgh and rented a little house there. It was not as pretty as the one in Greenville, and their furniture did not look as well In it. The walls were shabby, and in one room discolored but the landlord would not fix them, and Irving could not afford to. Their carpets did not fit, and were eked out here and there with strips of oilcloth. They did not have curtains at all the wiudowa, and Molly did not take very much pride in arranging things. She was as she had said—"tired out." She economised, but It was the uncompromising economy that simply goes without things—not the cheerful kind, that takes second and third best, and so manipulates and disguises that it seems to make the best out of them.

Molly moved in a very gray atmos-

Sesperation,woke

here. She with a neavy sense of that hung over andclnng around her all day. She felt that Fate had somehow played her a malicious trick, and she nad moments of blind

conviction that, after all, &e defeat was in her owta character. She had always thought that in any crisis she would oe a brave woman. She bettered, even now, that ahe could have endured a sharp keen sorrow, like death, with heroism. The trouble was that her crisis was a prolongation.

She was young and well har children were loveable and attractive her husband loved her, and if the flame of his love burned faintly, she knew it was ahe herself who haa dimmed it, and ahe knew, too, that she had the power to fan it into brightness again. She felt that a stronger, trtier woman would have taken the despised material of her life and .woven it into fabric, bright and

TERRS HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

often very

tired. She gave Irving a curt, sharp word now and then, butoftener, she was stonily silent with him.

Molly believed that no character stands still, that every success strengthens, as every defeat weakens it, and it was with shame and despair that she saw quite clearly that she had not only fallen short of all her aspirations, but that she was growing daily to be a poorer sort of woman, less and less capable of ever reaching them.

beautiful. She knew that many another woman who had all for which she would have envied her. /Yes, I have all the essentials of happiness," she said wearily to herself, but yet she was very miserable. She indulged in vagtteday-dreams of what her life might have been if she had married some one else and then she would rouse herself with a shock and realize that in thought she was untrue to her husband.

Meanwhile the success which Molly had given up expecting did not come to them in Pittsburg. Irving grew thin and haggard. He worked hard, but it was with tha energy of a desperate man, and no longer with the zeal of a hopeful one.

He and Molly never quarreled, but rarely talked to each other at all. She went her way and he his, each silent, gloomy, depressed.

He nad ceased to expect help or encouragement in his home. The very thought of his wife dragged on him sometime like a ball and chain |and yet he had not acknowledged to himself that he no longer loved Molly. He was very sorry for her and bitterly self-accusing when he though of all that she had suffered.

He did not drink, as some men would have done, but once or twice when his mental distress was aggravated by physical pain, he took opium. "I shan't have that young Dr. Tracy again," said one young mother to another. "He came yesterday to see Ethel's sore throat and gave her some medicine in a glass and after he'd got away out to the gate, be came all the way to see if it was right. Now, a man that's so absent-minded as that isn't fit to be trusted with children." "No, indeed," said her hearer, "and ho asked me yesterday how my little girl was. I should think if any ought to know that the baby was a boy, he ought." "I don't believe he treats his wife well either, she's the glummest looking thing!"

There were many such talks as these, and though they were but idle breath, they blew Irving Tracy no good.

He came home one night, tired and pre-occupied. He had a very sick patient, a young girl, who was the only daughter of the most prominent merchant in Pittsburg.

Molly was unusually quiet, but she said to him after supper: "Irving, I want to talk to you. Can you stay a little while?" "Yes," he said listlessly and sat down.

She came beside him. "Irving,"

Bhe

said, "John Carter was

here to-day." •»J

k'

"Well, what did he want?" He came to see me." She paused and twisted her fingers nervously. "I am telling you this, Irving, because it is right you should know. He was in love with me, before we were married, you know, and he said things to me to-day —I let him say them—that no man has a right to say to another man's wife."

Irving looked at her fixedly. "What are you talking about?" he said. "Oh, Irving, do not look at me like that," she cried. "I have been a weak woman and a poor, unworthy wife, but I am not wicked." She looked at him pleadingly, but he took no notice of her, and after a few seconds she went on, nervously: "He told me to-day that if I had let him shape my life, he would hav6 made it very happy, and that all my poverty and hardship had made him sufier whenever he thought of it, because I was not fitted or made for it. I let him say it: I did not answer him, but afterward when it was too late, I knew that I had done wrong knew that he had no right to speak to me like that, and I thought at least I could be true enough to tell you, and let you know just how bad I am." She stopped tearfully.

She could come to hep husband with such a confession as this, for she was not afraid of him. and it required but the one effort of seif-adasement but she had not been able to keep out of her mind the daily vision of what life might have been if she had married another man.

Irving had listened as if he scarcely heard heil. He was suprised that he did not seem to care. It only showed how far apart he and Molly had drifted that he did not mind more. "Well, Molly," he said with a sigh. "I guess he was right. It's all been a wretched bungling business, but we must try to make the best of it, for the children's sake."

He started to leave the room. ,40h, Irving don't go," she sobbed, "don't go. Tell me that you forgive me —tell met hat you despise me!-' ..

He laug lied a little hard laugh. "Which do you prefer? I can't do both."

But Molly did not answer. She had thrown herself upon the sofa and was crying bitterly.

He looked at her gloomily and a little contemputously then, without speaking wentout in the hall and put on his overcoat. At the hall door, he hesitated turned and came back. 'Come, Molly." he said, touching her shoulder, "don't despair." I've had a faint ray of light to-aay. The Medical Gazette is going to take my article on diphtheria, and pay me for it. I think luck is going to turn and we'll be happy yet."

His voice was hard and hopeless, and she knew there was no heart in what he said. So he left her. She lay still and cried miserably for along time. It was late when he came home, but she had not gone to bed. He seemed nervous and excited. "Miss Simpsou is dead," he said.&^> 4 "When dia she die? asked Molly". "She was dead when I got there tonight they had just sent for me: it was very sudden," and he walked about the room restlessly.

The next morning, as Molly sat at the sewing-machine, Irving came home. It was an unusual thing for him to do in the morning, and sne was surprised when she heard his step. He came straight to the room where she was, and tood before her. He held a newspaper in his hand. "Molly," he said and his voice was husky, "Molly, they say that I killed Ida Simpson."

She looked up at him with heavy, doubting eyes, if she could, even then, at that Late day, have gone up to him and thrown her arms around him, if she could have shown him by look or word that her love would never believe anything against him ,whatever the rest of the- world might say, she might have saved him. But she could not she waited stolidy.

There were beads of presniration on his forehead and his hand snook, as he tried to find the place in the paper. '•See, there it is. They say I gave her too much morphine." and he looked at Molly beseechingly.

She took the paper mechanically. Here then had come the last cruel blow of fate. She glanced over the paragraph, It was an inflammatory article depouning Irving Tracy and accusing nim of having needlessly caused the death of his young patient. It was evidently written by a physician and was very bitter and scathing in tone.

Molly read read it hastily. "Ob. Irving!" she cried—and the paper fell to the floor—'-why did you do it?"

He staggered as 31 be had received a blow. "My God," he gasped and put both hands to his eyes. He took them down and looked at her onoe and opened

his mouth as if he were going to speak. Then he left the room and went heavily downstairs.

He had come to her in this, the most terrible moment of his life, forgetting what lay between them and only feeling in a blind way that it is to his home and to his wife that a man goes to in such a time: and she had failed him. She had sided with his accusers she had believed them she had not

even

asked if what

they had said was false. He walked down to his office as if he were drunk. He sat down by the Window and gazed stupidly out for some time, Then ne took a little pocket and went to his desk. ed a lower drawer -and took out a small, bright object, as pretty as a toy. It was a revolver. He bowed his head on his arms over the desk, and sat there with the cold handle of the revolver gradually growing warm in his palm.

ittie keyfrom his k. He open

He did not think of Molly, or of his children, with their heritage of shame. His mind was full of shuddering dread and horror of what he was about to do. He was a brave man, but this death was terrible. He turned in the shadow of it, and looked at his life. It lay before him darker and more hopeless than the grave. His grasp on his revolver tightened. He was nerved' and ready. There came a knock at the door. The daily habit of welcoming eagerly the few patients who came to him was so strong, that he put down his revolver, and hastily replacing it in the drawer, opened the door. A woman stood there, who spoke quickly as soon as she saw him. "Oh, Dr. Tracy," she said, "I have come across from father's, office to offer you our sympathy in this cruel, unjust attack that has been made upon you, and to tell vou that if you are going to take counsel, father would be glad to give you his services as a friend."

Irving looked at her wildly# He could not understand. He tried to speak, but his lips were dry and parched. He knew her, but it seemed as if he had met her in another world. She was Miss Spalding, and her father was considered the best lawyer in Pittsburgh but why had she come to him now with this voice of pity? What was she talking about— sympathy? for him?

He tried to find a voice. "I beg your pardon," he said hoarsely. "I did not understand." Then, in the same dazed way, he added: "Will you come in?"

She hesitated a moment and then entered. There was a little confusion in her manner now, and the color carfie in her cheeks. ,, ,. "My father, Mr. Spalding," she began, "is very sorry such an attack has been made upon you, and he will act for you if you want to bring suit. He wanted me to tell you that ne, that we"—her voice faltered—-"that we respect—oh, it is too bad, I am so sorry, so sorry!"

The tears stood in her eyes, and she looked at him appeSingly. It seemed to her as if he were made of stone. He watched her without moving. you crying for me! he asked, ily.

Are

curiously, She looked up indignantly, but in his haggard face and dull, sad eyes,jino read the man's utter desperation. il

-v.-. She saw

the gleam of the revolver in the drawer, which was not entirely shut. She took in each detail of the poorly furnished office, and the tragedy of his life lay bare before her. "Yes," she said gently, "I am crying for you." Then she smiled a little through her tears. "It is silly of me, isn't it, but I feel as if I knew you very well—better than you know me. I know how hard and faithfully you have worked, how Kood you have been to the poor and helpless. It is almost enough to make a,man lose faith, Isn't it, when after working as hard as you have done, he gets such a reward as this?"

Sne stopped a moment, and then said

8i"?have

a brother in New York who is

a| doctor. I love him very dearly, and I know how it would hurt him if this had happened to him. I should tell him just as I tell you, not to be discouraged. It may seem very dark and gloomy, but it will surely come out right. God never forsakes us, you know. Just trust Him a little longer, and hold His hand tight, and everything will be well."

He watched ner intently, but his face was

as

expressionless as if he had not

cvmprehended a word. He had, chough, and he had a wild desire to fling himself on his knees before her, and Dury his face in her lap and cry. Hers was the first voice of sympathy that he had heard in years. She had spoken mere^plati in tooioi ~r JT tudes, but even a hopeful word was sweet to him. She might be feeding him on husks, but he liked the taste She looked at him a moment, and said lightly: ''Why, I believe this has made you very down-hearted!"

He nodded his head—he could not speak. "That is a pity," she said in the same cheerful tone, as if she were coaxing a child to forget its bumped head. "Why, I'm not sure but it will be a good thing for you after all. Father wants you to bring suit for libel he is sure that he can recover for you, and think how much free advertising you will get!" she ended with a smile.

Then she rose and held out her hand. "Don't go," he said, "I want you." He still looked dazed, but it was the bewilderment of one who is waking and who should recognize the things about him. "I must go," she said gently, "but you will come and see father he is a good friend of yours, and you have many others—more, I think, than you know— who will all fight for you if you will not ight for yourself."

Then she left him and he closed the door after her. When he came down from his office an hour afterward, he looked tired and old. He had picked up the burden of life and bound it on his shoulders. It might crush him, but God helping him, he would never try to throw It off again.

Later in the day he saw Mr. Spalding and soon afterward began his suit for libel, not in a spirit of rage or anper, but with a sort of patient dignity. His good name had been blackened he had determined to have it clean again.

Molly and he lived outwardly just as before. He never spoke to her unkindly, he even tried to cheer and encourage her. They never talked about his suit, nor the many cruel things that were said of him but ne knew that Molly did not believe that he would ever clear his name or win his case. He felt that she looked upon it all as a waste of time.

In due course it was conclusively proven that Miss Simpson had died of heart disease and not of the small dose of morphine which the doctor had given her and the newspaper that had been so violent in its attack upon him was forced to pay him $5,000.

Nothing succeeds like success. He thought a little bitterly, that if one-tenth of the men who came up and shook his hand warmly, and congratulated him when the verdict was declared, bad offered him even the scantiest sympathy when so many tongues wagged against him, he would been more grateful. Before the proof they had all eyed him ana with suspicion. glad In a subdued sort of

ooldl way."f*he treated this "little gleam of •ooeeaa like a bubble which might burst at any moment. &be bad

happiness and her husband for so long that she seemed to have lost the power of belief in either.

Irving was asked to write again for the Medical Gazette, and his articles received a good deal of attention. He had a number of encouraging letters from pro mi- jf nent physicians. These he showed to to Molly. "Yes," he said "luck is turning. We are going to float off from our sand-bank yet."

Molly smiled sadly and shook ber head You will, Irving, but I shall not." *f| "Why?" he asked. /V "Oh,,"' she said "don't you see? 'To him that overcometh, willlgive acrown. of life' and it's true of all things. It is those who overcome who are rewarded. I never overcame anything misfortunes always overcame me. If I had been steadfast and true aud had stood shoulder to shoulder with you in all our trouble, then ,1 might nope for something better, but my love has never helped you in sorrow why should it f, share with you in happiness?" "Molly," he said kindly, "you a£ morbid," and yet he knew that she spokocthe truth. Tlie love that has been hei less in an hour of need, can nevor much of a comfort to man when li% it is pleasant. ,n tends "No," she said, quietly, "you ki_ is true, I don't know whether I^e9tnut have helped it or not. Some* think I couldn't. Things- «^pore, if a. crush mo and tako the life oi Then again I think if I had trk

a

canoe'

harder, if I had only struggletho ex pres. longer, I might have succoede -v is it they say about an aetre. was over weighted with her paifPfl

mal

it, Irving I have been 'overweijfJn with my part." "Molly, he said, not impatiently, but with decision, "there is no uso of talk- Sf ing liko that. Wo havo both made mistakes. I have never blamed you, but we must let the dead bury its dead." "It will bury me with it," she said* under her breath.

They were idle words, and Mollio uttored them in no spirit of prophecy, but they came true, for not long after this talk she became ill. It was only a bad. oold they thought at first, but itspeedily developed into acute pneumonia. She was not sick many days, and was unconscious most of the time.

Irving took care ot hor, tenderly and anxiously. His early love came back in a great tidal wave. He forgot everything else, and only remembered how much he had loved her, and how m'uoh she had suffered.

Something happened then that at any other time would have filled his heart with joy and thankfulness. Now he hardly had room to think about it. He received a call to come to Philadelphia and take the chair of surgery in the Medical College there. It was a fine

Eonor

osition, with a good salary, and was an seldom ottered to so young a man. He told Mollie of it in one of Her fewconscious moments. "Darling," he said, "when you get well we are going to be so happy."

She smiled fondly and pressed his hand, but the success that she had never believed in came too late for Molly and when he sat by ber bedside after she died, and closed the eyes that had cried so much it seemed to Irving Tracy as if it had oome too late for him too.

He moved to Philadelphia and took the position in the medical college there. He became well known after a while, and Fortune, that had frowned so long, grew to be a very smiling goddess. He wondered at it sometimes wondered ir&t why it was that when he struggled so desperately, and would have bought suocess with his heart's blood, he could not

Sometimes the thought of marrying again entered his mind, but it seemed to him a sort of disloyalty to Molly. She had borne the burden and heat of the day, unwillingly, complainingly, rebelliously, perhaps, but still she had borne it. It did not seem fair that another should share the reward. He looked around his comfortable home and longed for her to enjoy it with him. He thought they would have been so happy if she had lived.

As for the little woman who had come to him that terrible morning, and by her words of sympathy and good cheer saved his life,he sometimes thought of her won* deringly. But everything that had hap-

fienea

then looked strange and distorted retrospect. He was not sure that he remembered the facts aright.

It was long before he saw her again, and when he finally met hor it was with the Btart of surprise that we meet one whom we have thought dead. He had not thought her dead, but as unreal, lielonging only to that one time when she had come into his life. She had never bad any living personality for himn.tt.

After awhile he said: ,• "I have never thanked you for the help you gave me once. I do not think you. know how much you did for me."

She smilled brightly. "Did I? I am very glad," she said. He looked at her and thought what his life might have been if he had had all through it the warm, true love of a brave woman. He did not need it so much now. And yet he was young—he was lonely—perhaps if she—and then his thoughts went back to Molly, and the dismal ending of his life's young dream. No, he could not dream again.

The woman who bad failed stretched her hand from the-grave and robbed him of this possibility of happiness also. He never married again.

She Broke the Bniagtmeii.

because she saw that he had ceased to love her. Her beauty had faded, her former high spirits had given place to a dull lassitude. What had caused this change? Functional derangement, she was suffering from those ailmeuts peculiar to her sex. And so their two young lives drifted apart. How needless, how cruel! Had she taken Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription she might have been restored to nealth and happiness. If any lady reader of these lines is si ml- .. larly

afflicted,

t,

win it, and now when he did not try, or even care much, everything prospered with him. ep

He was devoted to his ohlldren, and they were a great source of comfort and *•, diversion, while they grew up with the deepest love and admiration for their father*

let her lose no time in pro­

curing the "Favorite Prescription". It give ber a new lease of life. Sold by druggists, under a positive guarantee from the manufactures, of perfect satisfaction in every case, or money refunded See guarantee on bottle wrapper.

The silent man is often worth listening to. ________________ Canker humors of every description, -J whether in the mouth, throat or stomach are expelled from the system by the use of Ayer's Sarsaparilla. No other remedy can compare with this, as a cure for all disease in Impure or impoverished blood

When your toes are asleep they aro comatose. See the point? ./i t/: "/1'.. WhenOth«r Foods. m-* will not remain upon the stomachs of persons troubled with wasting disease^ Lactated Food is digested with ease and sustains them. So also in casos chronic diarrhoea, delirium tremens at is. Emaciated infants.