ence inspires me. He is of all men the most--"

But here she seemed first to have caught sight of the Iron King, who was
standing in the door, and who had heard every word of adulation that she
had spoken.

"Cora, is not dinner ready?" he inquired, coming forward.

"Yes, sir; only waiting for you," answered the lady, touching a bell.

The gray haired butler came to the call.

"Put dinner on the table," ordered Mr. Rockharrt.

The old butler bowed and disappeared; and after awhile reappeared and
announced:

"Dinner served, sir."

Mr. Rockharrt gave his arm to Mrs. Stillwater, to take her to the table.

"Will not my Uncle Clarence be home this evening?" inquired Cora, as the
three took their seats.

"No; he will not be home before Saturday night. Since Fabian went away
there has been twice as much supervision over the foremen and
bookkeepers needed there, and Clarence is very busy over the accounts,
working night and day," replied the Iron King, as he took a plate of
soup from the hands of the butler and passed it to Mrs. Stillwater, who
received it with the beaming smile that she always bestowed on the Iron
King.

She was the life of the little party. If she was a broken hearted widow,
she did not show it there. She smiled, gleamed, glowed, sparkled in
countenance and words. The moody Iron King was cheered and exhilarated,
and said, as he filled her glass for the first time with Tokay, "Though
you do not need wine to stimulate you, my child. You are full of joyous
life and spirits."

"Oh, sir, pardon me. Perhaps I ought to control myself; but I am so
happy to be here through your great goodness; so free from care and
fear; so full of peace and joy; so safe, so sheltered! I feel like a
storm beaten bird who has found a nest, or a lost child who has found a
home, and I forget all my losses and all my sorrows and give myself up
to delight. Pardon me, sir; I know I ought to be calmer."

"Not at all, not at all, my child! I am glad to see you so gay. I
approve of you. You have suffered more than either of us, for you have
not only lost your life's companion, but home, fortune, and all your
living. My granddaughter here, as you may see, is a monument of morbid,
selfish sorrow, which she will not try to throw off even for my sake.
But you will brighten us all."

"I wish I might; oh, how I wish I might! It seems to me it is easy to be
happy if one has only a safe home and a good friend," said Rose.

"And those