never you can possibly do so. It was so sweet
of you to write in Addison's Walk because you did not want to miss
my Sunday letter and yet the day was too beautiful not to be out of
doors. God only knows, my boy, what a comfort you are to me. There
was never a better son nor one who was loved more devotedly.

YOUR MOTHER.

In the morning, with the breakfast tray, there arrived a bunch of
orchids from one of Oliver's theatrical friends, who had heard that his
wife was in town; and while Virginia laid the box carefully in the
bathtub, her eyes shone with the grateful light which came into them
whenever some one did her a small kindness or courtesy.

"They will be lovely for me to wear to-night, Oliver. It was so nice of
him to send them, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was rather nice," Oliver replied, looking up from his paper at
the pleased sound of her voice. Ever since his return at a late hour
last night, she had noticed the nervousness in his manner and had
sympathetically attributed it to his anxiety about the fate of his play.
It was so like Oliver to be silent and self-absorbed when he was
anxious.

Through the day he was absent, and when he returned, in the evening, to
dress for the theatre, she was standing before the mirror fastening the
bunch of orchids on the front of her gown. As he entered, she turned
toward him with a look of eager interest, of pleasant yet anxious
excitement. She had never in her life, except on the morning of her
wedding day, taken so long to dress; but it seemed to her important that
as Oliver's wife she should look as nice as she could.

"Am I all right?" she asked timidly, while she cast a doubtful glance in
the mirror at the skirt of the black brocade.

"Yes, you're all right," he responded, without looking at her, and the
suppressed pain in his voice caused her to move suddenly toward him with
the question, "Aren't you well, Oliver?"

"Oh, I'm well, but I'm tired. I had a headache on the way up and I
haven't been able to shake it off."

"Shall I get you something for it?"

"No, it will pass. I'd like a nap, but I suppose it's time for me to
dress."

"Yes, it's half-past six, and we've ordered dinner for seven."

He went into the dressing-room, and turning again to the mirror, she
changed the position of the bunch of orchids, and gave a little
dissatisfied pat to the hair on her forehead. If only she could bring
back some of the bloom and the freshness o