had been forbidden by his physician to go out. Few people had called at the rectory during the day. He had not yet heard the scandalous gossip of the town that connected his name with Mary Bradley's.
When evening came he, himself, put his children to bed. He heard their pathetic little prayers for their mother. Then he kissed them good-night, and went down to his study with wet eyes.
Later on he ascended again to his wife's chamber. The nurse had gone out for the moment, and he drew a chair up by the side of the bed and sat there. She saw that he had been weeping. She said:
"Why are your eyes wet, Robert?"
"I have been putting the children to bed," he replied, "and they were praying for you. It touched me."
"The precious dears! You'll be very kind to them, and patient with them, won't you, Robert, after I am gone?"
"You're not going, Alice. Not for many, many years yet."
"Don't talk that way, Robert. Please don't. You know how much better it is that I should go now. And when you marry again"
"I'm going to marry you again, dear. We're going to be lovers again, just as we were in the old days."
"But, Robert, I"
"Oh, I know. I've been thoughtless and inconsiderate. I haven't appreciated you at your worth. But you'll find me different after this. I've had some heart-searching days of late."
"No, Robert, you've been very good to me. I've often wondered how you could have been so good, for I've never been able to—to reach you. But I have loved you so—and the children"
"There, sweetheart, never mind now. Don't talk any more to-night. Try to get a little sleep and rest."
With tender fingers he pushed back a stray lock of her hair, and she reached out and found his hand and
