losing you out of my life by not writing, and I'm afraid if I
write, I will lose you. It is impossible for me to say what you've
done for me. I never would have been anything more than a poor
farmer, only for you. I don't want to apologize to you for telling
you how much you are to me. I want to appeal to you to give me a
chance to work for you; that's all. I want you to give me some
hope, if you can.

I know I am asking a great deal even in that. I realize how
unreasonable it is. You've only seen me a few times; and yet I'm
not going to apologize for it. I must have it over with; I can't go
on in this way. Won't you write to me and tell me that I can look
forward to the future with hope? Yours sincerely,

BRADLEY TALCOTT.

For the next ten days he was of little service to his country except
the day he made his speech on the tariff question. It was his first set
speech, and he had twenty minutes yielded to him by the gentleman from
Missouri, who had charge of the bill. He had the close attention of the
House, not only for his thoughts, which were fresh and direct, but also
for the natural manner in which he spoke. He had lost a good deal of
his "oratory," but had gained a powerful, flexible and colloquial style
which made most of the orators around him seem absurd. The fine
shadings of emotion and of thought in his voice struck upon the ear
wearied with rancous yells and monotonous brazen declamations, with a
cool and restful effect. At the close, the members crowded about to
congratulate him upon his efforts, and for the moment he felt quite
satisfied with himself.

It gave him a shock to see Ida's fateful letter lying upon the hat-rack
in his boarding-house, where it had been pawed over by the whole
household. He hastened to his room, and dropped into a chair with that
familiar terrible numbness in his limbs, and with his heart beating so
hard it shortened his breathing. He was like a man breathless with
running. When his eyes fell on the writing, his hands ceased to shake,
and his quick breathing fell away into a long, shuddering inspiration.
He read the first page twice without moving a muscle. Then he turned
the page, and finished it. It was not long, and it was very direct.

_Dear Mr. Talcott_:--

Your letter has moved me deeply, very deeply. I would have
prevented its being written if I could. It is the greatest
tribute--save one--that has ev