d forth upon my track), as they met
me, seemed to wander from a distant, muffling cloud. Only the thought
of Lorna's death, like a heavy knell, was tolling in the belfry of my
brain.

When we came to the stable door I rather fell from my horse than got
off; and John Fry, with a look of wonder, took Kickum's head and led
him in. Into the old farmhouse I tottered, like a weanling child, with
mother, in her common clothes, helping me along, yet fearing, except
by stealth, to look at me.

"I have killed him," was all I said, "even as he killed Lorna. Now let
me see my wife, mother. She belongs to me none the less, though dead."

"You cannot see her now, dear John," said Ruth Huckaback, coming
forward, since no one else had the courage.

"Annie is with her now, John."

"What has that to do with it? Let me see my dead and pray to die."

All the women fell away and whispered, and looked at me with side
glances, and some sobbing, for my face was hard as flint. Ruth alone
stood by me, and dropped her eyes and trembled. Then one little hand
of hers stole into my great shaking palm, and the other was laid on my
tattered coat; yet with her clothes she shunned my blood, while she
whispered gently:

"John, she is not dead. She may even be your living one yet--your wife,
your home, and your happiness. But you must not see her now."

Now, whether it was the light and brightness of my Lorna's nature, or
the freedom from anxiety, but anyhow, one thing is certain; sure as the
stars of hope above us, Lorna recovered long ere I did.

The Sky

The sky is a drinking-cup,
That was overturned of old,
And it pours in the eyes of men
Its wines of airy gold.

We drink that wine all day,
Till the last drop is drained up,
And are lighted off to bed
By the jewels in the cup!

--_Richard Henry Stoddard_.

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| | THE SPEAKER | |
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TABLE OF CONTENTS

=NO. 1=

Editorials 1-4

The Artist's Secret Olive Schreiner 5

The History Lesson from L'Aiglon Edmund Rostand 6

Dawn Paul Laurence Dunbar 11

Bill, the Lokil Editor Eugene Field 12

Aren