he night!

Courage wakes in the presence of those dependent on your toil. Love arms
your hand and quickens your brain. Resolutions break large from the
swelling soul. Energy leaps into your action like light. Gradually you
bring back into your humble home a few traces of the luxury that once
adorned it. That wife, whom it is your greatest pleasure to win to
smiles, wears a half-sad look as she meets these proofs of love; she
fears that you are perilling too much for her pleasure.

----For the first time in life you deceive her. You have won wealth
again; you now step firmly upon your new-gained sandals of gold. But you
conceal it from her. You contrive a little scheme of surprise, with
Frank alone in the secret.

You purchase again the old home; you stock it, as far as may be, with
the old luxuries; a new harp is in the place of that one which beguiled
so many hours of joy; new and cherished flowers bloom again upon the
windows; her birds hang, and warble their melody where they warbled it
before. A pony--like as possible to the old--is there for Madge; a fete
is secretly contrived upon the lawn. You even place the old, familiar
books upon the parlor-table.

The birthday of your own Madge is approaching,--a _fete_ you never pass
by without home rejoicings. You drive over with her upon that morning
for another look at the old place; a cloud touches her brow,--but she
yields to your wish. An old servant--whom you had known in better
days--throws open the gates.

----"It is too, too sad," says Madge. "Let us go back, Clarence, to our
own home;--we are happy there."

----"A little farther, Madge."

The wife steps slowly over what seems the sepulchre of so many
pleasures; the children gambol as of old, and pick flowers. But the
mother checks them.

"They are not ours now, my children!"

You stroll to the very door; the goldfinches are hanging upon the wall;
the mignonette is in the window. You feel the hand of Madge trembling
upon your arm; she is struggling with her weakness.

A tidy waiting-woman shows you into the old parlor:--there is a harp;
and there, too, such books as we loved to read.

Madge is overcome; now she entreats:--"Let us go away, Clarence!" and
she hides her face.

----"Never, dear Madge, never! it is yours--all yours!"

She looks up in your face; she sees your look of triumph; she catches
sight of Frank bursting in at the old hall-door all radiant with joy.

----"Frank!--Clarence!"--the