isfied; not while a higher wish is ungratified, or a better end to be attained by effort. Ne'er speak to me of the weak law of common usage. Few dare, even for what they believe to be right, step over its prescribed limits. In all the past it has given to woman a subordinate place and they have accepted it because its influence is far-reaching, its word law. To the daughter of republican America, custom has taught a foolish inactivity and reliance. To her it has closed her college doors and hedged within certain limits the progressive and aspiring woman. I tell you, Fred, it is not incapacity-it is custom, whose present laws must, ere long, yield to a more righteous code, which will point such men as we have listened to to-night to the shop or the farmfor which the athletic frame was originally intended."

As Annie ceased speaking they had reached the door of her home, and, with a simple "good-night," Fred turned away, thankful that for a single hour he had been able to divert the mind of his young friend from the great sorrow which wrapped her so closely in the dark folds of its deep, unfathomable mystery.

CHAPTER XVII.

And yet he thinks-ha, ha, he thinks
I am the servant of his wish;
Nor dare to meet him in his home
Another's lord. Well, let him think,
I'll shape my way in pride and will;
And show that woman can be strong.

"THREE hundred thousand more."

Ah! who can forget the sickening thrill, the hopes and fears, the yearnings for a single glance beyond the present, as a nation heard the voice of its chief, sounding from State to State, from town to town, "three hundred thousand more."

Holman had its war meetings and public demonstrations. In the excitement of obtaining by enlistment the quota or required number of twenty men, the anxious citizens failed to attach any importance to the absence of the Shermans from their enthusiastic gatherings.

When the recruits were snug in camp, and the dictating, faultfinding Sherman was seen plodding noiselessly about his farm, his slouched hat hiding his eyes, his lips closed and quiet, suspicion became at once alert and vigilant.

The entire absence of the son was the first discovery. Then came whispers of a heavy forgery, by which he had relieved his father's coffers of several thousands. Having accomplished the ruin of his parent the son had departed without leaving any

definite clue to his intended future, though none doubted his hasty journey in the direction of a neighboring recruiting office under whose banner he might secure present safety.

Misfortune does not often tire with a single blow, or weary with the first unwelcome visit.

From the hour of his first disaster the vaunting William Sherman became the victim of many calamities, till his remaining funds slid away by pecuniary mismanagement and loss.

Harry Wilmot pitied and forgave when he saw his enemy shrink hopelessly from the reward of his evil ways, though no repentant sigh sought to balance a life of oft repeated crime.

Annie had left Lewiston with the hope of regaining lost strength in her country home and its tranquillizing air. At the close of a few weeks, without having heard from her missing brother, she returned to her former residence, more wretched than when she left its smoky air and crowded streets.

"I thought," she said, as she sat with Mrs. Fletcher two days after her return, "that I saw Kate Sommers yesterday as I passed the Bodwell residence. It must have been an optical illusion, though it appeared so real."

"Not an illusion, dear."

"Was it Kate?"

"Doubtless it was the same Kate we once knew and feared." "How came she there with such a home-like look?"

"I would not tell you, Annie, but you must find it out some time. Kate Sommers is married. That pretty house is her home, bought with money left her from her father's estate. I am told that she allowed the writings to be done in her husband's name, a step which I consider very unwise."

Annie was sensible of a quick, almost suffocating pain, yet there was no expression of astonishment. She only asked:

"When was she married?”

"Why not ask who her husband is? I shall tell you; it is Mr. Ashley, my long esteemed cousin. He has got a wife this time

of you have been forgotten by your old accerrupted Mr. Fletcher, as he took from his little billets directed in the delicate handwriting

will receive her friends Wednesday, the twentyI did not think Kate would carry her jesting so them expect us to notice these by attending the rked Edith, still holding the note.

posed to accept it as a matter of fact, and present appointed place and hour. Why not?" asked

girl. You cannot think soberly of such a thing." perly, but with a fixed decision. Do you think, , I dare not behold a scene in his domestic life, e him the husband of another? It may be unbut the sooner I familiarize myself to these new shall I forget that Ashley was ever more to me iend."

ble girl," said Mr. Fletcher, “and I will provide tfit. My pretty wife shall have a white satin, lest shade of blue."

inaries are easily disposed of," answered the glory in obstinate contention. The promised pargh my judgment teaches a different course, may

buy my consent to join my husband and friend on the auspicious Wednesday, and see the result of their folly."

Preparations for the coming event were entered upon and completed without great expectations from the ladies., Wallace only waited impatiently for the events of the coming evening.

"You look young and fair as on your wedding day," remarked Annie, as she twisted a few small flowers with the glossy curls of Mrs. Fletcher's hair, the finishing touch before starting for the Bodwell place, now the home of Mrs. Ashley, and where the first reception was to be given.

The house was well filled with invited guests before the arrival of Mr. Fletcher and party.

"You must be more than a woman," said Edith, as Annie looked after some slight disarrangement of her toilet with unusual care. "I could not look indifferent, or appear happy in the teeth of so many aggravating things."

"No, Edith, dear, I am only a woman, but I have realized that fact and its attending circumstances from a schoolgirl."

"What has that to do with the present? I have known as much, yet we are wholly different in the practical things of life. You stand erect and look the world squarely in the face as if challenging a combat, and, with a stoic's unconcern, shake hands with all its unpleasant situations as with welcome guest. I am intimidated at the sound of its strife, shrink from its turmoil, and never feel happy when beyond the shadow of some protecting spirit."

"You, without questioning, accept the present condition and place of woman. I foresaw the impossibility of becoming a queen or even a mere subordinate favorite of fortune. I had desires reaching beyond the common drudgery of life. I asked something above the shrinking dependence to which many so quietly subscribe. These feelings were right. I felt them to be so, and my impetuous will made a strong resolve to leave the beaten path. In a measure I have been successful, though failing