holding the hand of Sally
Wimple, who now, with closed eyes, reclined on Madeline's bosom,
--that bosom that was, for her weariness, the type of the complete
rest that crowns and blesses a brave struggle,--of that
all-for-the-best-ness that comes of the heart's clearings-up. Only
Adelaide broke the silence; with her gaze fixed full on Withers, and
a triumphant sneer crowning her happy lips, she uttered one word by
way of chorus,--"Joseph!"

At that word a faint flush flitted athwart the cheeks of Madeline,
and she moved as if uneasy; but she did not speak again, nor turn
her eyes to any face but Miss Wimple's.

Josephine Splurge was there; but, perceiving no opening that she
could fill to advantage with a delightful quotation, and having no
pickle at hand whereto she might give all her mind, she supported a
graceful silence with back hair and an attitude.

Mrs. Splurge was there,--and that was all. Not clearly understanding what
she was called upon to say or do under the circumstances, nor prepared
to take the responsibility of saying or doing anything without being
called upon, she said and did nothing at all. Mrs. Splurge, who had had
some experience in that wise, had never been of so little consequence
before.

Near the head of the bed, his looks directed toward Miss Wimple with
an expression of benevolent solicitude, sat a gentleman of middle age,
rather handsome, his hair inclined to gray, his attire fine, but
studiously simple.

"Mrs. Morris," he said, "may I be permitted to speak a word here?"

"Surely, Mr. Osgood."

"Then, ladies and gentlemen, since doubtless we understand each
other by this time, I think it advisable that we retire, and leave
Miss Wimple to much-needed repose."

All arose and passed out, Mrs. Splurge leading the way, Mr. Osgood
holding the door. Last of all, and with a pitiful shyness, as if
dodging some fresh discomfiture and exposure, came Philip Withers.

"The door is at your service, Sir," said Mr. Osgood, as he passed;
"to be sure, the window were more appropriate for your passage; but
to attach importance to your existence by suddenly endangering it is
an honor I am not prepared to pay you."

Madeline remained with Miss Wimple.

Now Miss Wimple is Simon Blount's wife, and they live with his mother.
The debt of the Athenaeum is paid.

Adelaide abides at the Splurge house,--a reserved, bitter,
forbidding woman.

Mrs. Splurge still lives; but that is of as little conseq