ected.
"And it was wrong and selfish. I can't fasten this dead weight of my
troubles on you and drag you back. I can't do that, dear friend."

He started at the word, laying hold of her hand with eager grip.

"Have you forgotten the other word--is that all there is to it?" he
asked, bending toward her, a gentle rebuke in his trembling voice.

"There is so much more! so much more!" she whispered. "Because of that,
I cannot be so selfish as to dream those splendid dreams again--wait,"
she requested, as she felt that he was about to speak.

"If I thought only of myself, of a refuge for others and myself, then I
would not count the penalty which would attach to you to provide it. But
unless we win the Governor's fee, my dear, dear soul, don't you see how
impossible it will be for us to carry out even the most modest of our
fond schemes?"

"Not at all," he protested.

"It would drag you back to where you were before, only leaving you with
a greater burden of worry and expense," she continued, unheeding. "I was
rapt, I was deadened to selfish forgetfulness by the sweet music of
those dreams. I am awake now, and I tell you that you must not do it,
that I shall never permit you to ruin your life by assuming a load which
will crush you."

"Agnes, the chill of the night is in your heart," said he. "I will not
listen to such folly! Tomorrow, when the sun shines, it will be the same
as yesterday. I have it all arranged; you can't change it now."

"Yes. You took charge of me in your impetuous generosity, and I was
thoughtless enough to interpose no word. But I didn't mean to be
selfish. Please remember above it all that I didn't mean to be
selfish."

"I have it all arranged," he persisted stubbornly, "and there will be no
turning back. Tomorrow it will not look so gloomy to you. Now, you'd
better go to bed."

He rose as he spoke, gave her his hand, and helped her to her feet. As
they stood face to face Agnes placed her hand upon his shoulder
gravely.

"I am in sober earnest about this, Doctor," said she. "We must not go on
with any more planning and dreaming. It may look as if I feared the
future with you for my own sake, putting the case as I do, all dependent
on the winning of that fee. But you would not be able to swim with the
load without that. It would sink you, and that, too, after you have
fought the big battle and won new courage and hope, and a new vision to
help you meet the world. Unless we weather the cris