himself and progression of
himself to greater distances than he could ever have accomplished in
any other way, and it was a double progress, since it was not only
for him, but also for the woman he had married. A great wave of love
for Fanny came over him. He seemed to see that, after all, it was a
shining road by which he had come, and he saw himself upon it like a
figure of light. He saw that he lived and could never die. Then, as
with a remorseless hurl of a high spirit upon needle-pricks of petty
cares, he thought again of the dressmaker, of the money for Ellen's
watch, of the butcher's bill, and the grocer's bills, and the money
which he had taken from the bank, and again he cowered beneath and
loathed his ignoble burden. He dug his hot head into the grass. "Oh,
my God! oh, my God!" he groaned. He fairly sobbed. Then he felt a
soft wind of feminine skirts caused by the sudden stoop of some one
beside him, and Ellen's voice, shrill with alarm, rang in his ears.
"Father, what is the matter? Father!"

Such was the man's love for the girl that his first thought was for
her alarm, and he pushed all his own troubles into the background
with a lightning-like motion. He raised himself hastily, and smiled
at her with his pitiful, stiff face. "It's nothing at all, Ellen,
don't you worry," he said.

But that was not enough to satisfy her. She caught hold of his arm
and clung to it. "Father," she said, in a tone which had in it, to
his wonder, a firm womanliness--his own daughter seemed to speak to
him as if she were his mother--"you are not telling me the truth.
Something is the matter, or you wouldn't do like this."

"No, there's nothin', nothin' at all, dear child," said Andrew. He
tried to loosen her little, clinging hand from his arm. "Come, let's
go back to the house," he said. "Don't you mind anything about it.
Sometimes father gets discouraged over nothin'."

"It isn't over nothing," said Ellen. "What is it about, father?"

Andrew tried to laugh. "Well, if it isn't over nothin', it's over
nothin' in particular," said he; "it's over jest what's happened
right along. Sometimes father feels as if he hadn't made as much as
he'd ought to out of his life, and he's gettin' older, and he's
feelin' kind of discouraged, that's all."

"Over money matters?" said Ellen, looking at him steadily.

"Over nothin'," said her father. "See here, child, father's ashamed
that he gave way so, and you found him. Now don't you worry o