d, that if I didn't manage to keep the
family on less than I did, he would certainly be ruined in his
business."

"The old story."

"Yes. I've heard it so often, that it goes in at one ear and out at the
other."

"So have I. But I like your plan amazingly, and mean to adopt it. In
fact, something of the kind was running through my head yesterday."

"Do so; and you will save yourself a world of petty troubles. I find
that it works just right."

This advice of her friend Mrs. Ellis pondered all the afternoon, and,
after viewing the matter on all sides, deliberately concluded to act in
like manner. Yet, for all this, she could not conquer a certain angry
feeling that rankled towards her husband, and, in spite of sundry half
formed resolutions to meet him, when he returned, in a kind manner, her
reception of him was such as the reader has seen.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE turning-point with Ellis had nearly come. It required,
comparatively, little beyond the weight of a feather to give
preponderance to the scale of evil influences. Cara's reception, as
shown in the last chapter, was no worse than he had anticipated, yet it
hurt him none the less; for unkind words from her were always felt as
blows, and coldness as the pressure upon his heart of an icy hand. In
the love of his children, who were very fond of him, he sought a kind
of refuge. Henry, his oldest child, was a bright, intelligent boy
between eight and nine years of age; and Kate, between six and seven,
was a sweet-tempered, affectionate little girl, who scarcely ever left
her father's side when he was in the house.

At the tea-table, only the children's voices were heard: they seemed
not to perceive the coldness that separated their parents. After
supper, Mr. Ellis went up into the nursery with Henry and Kate, and was
chatting pleasantly with them, when their mother, who had remained
behind to give some directions to a servant, came into the room.

"Come!" said she, in rather a sharp voice, as she entered, "it is time
you were in bed."

"Papa is telling us a story," returned Kate, in a pleading tone: "just
let us wait until he is done."

"I've got no time to wait for stories. Come!" said the mother,
imperatively.

"Papa will soon be done," spoke up Henry.

"It's early yet, mother," said Ellis; "let them sit up a little while.
I'm away all day, and don't see much of them."

"I want them to go to bed now," was the emphatic answer. "It's their
bed-