He looked no longer at his wife. I was certain of it. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. " "Without further fee?" inquired the knight. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard.
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