tient wife, but they entered her soul. "I will
disarm him with smiles and pleasant words," she every day resolved; yet
every day was she pierced anew with his arrowy verbality. "He shall have
to remember me only as a good wife and true," she said mentally, even
while her heart was ground as with a heel of iron.

But the time was coming when Althea might not be able thus to fortify
herself.

One August morning the family sat at breakfast. It was earlier than
usual, for Mr. Rush was to take the boat, which was to convey him the
first stages of his journey to his native Thornton Hall. Master Johnny
was already up and in his place; for he was a wide-awake fellow, bound
never to be left behind.

"Johnny will not eat; he has not been well for several days," remarked
the mother anxiously.

"You are always borrowing trouble. It is too early for the child to
eat," said the undisturbed father.

"His stomach must be out of order; he threw up yesterday all he ate,"
continued Althea.

"Because you stuffed him so. You are making a glutton of him. You ought
to know he should not eat more than he can hold," replied Thornton,
amiable as usual.

The child had put his chubby hands upon the table, and laid upon them
his curly head.

"Look up here, sir," said his father, sharply, "what ails you?"

The child raised his head wearily, and looked pleadingly to his mother.
She arose, about to take him in her arms, when the father interposed.

"Let him alone. The boy is well enough. You are making a fool of him; he
will never amount to a row of pins. I am going to take him in my own
hands; he is old enough, and has been babied to death." "Shut up, I tell
you," addressing Johnny, who was now crying for his mother to take him.
"Yes, a new leaf shall be turned over just so soon as I return from
Virginia. And you are about as much of a baby as he is, Althea," whose
eyes he observed to be full of tears. "Here, another cup of coffee; you
have no thought for me--you give all your attention to that
child--there, there is the whistle now! Ten to one I shall be late, and
all your fault, forcing me to talk instead of allowing me to eat. Hand
me my valise--there, good-by and don't fret," and, rushing away, he
gave no kiss to little Johnny, whom he was never more to behold; no kiss
to Althea, whom he was indeed to meet again, to meet again and soon; but
a gulf between him and her, insurmountable as death itself.

She turned to her child, now tha