s beyond her power. Having nobly conquered temptation while she
had strength, and yielded only when her physical nature itself was
exhausted, she gathered up the few possessions she had accumulated, sold
them for what they would bring, and, with a heart palpitating wildly,
broke every tie she had formed with the life around her and turned her
face toward the little village where her happiness and sorrows had
begun.

It was a long and tedious journey from New Orleans to Cincinnati in
those days, and it told terribly upon the weakened constitution of the
wayfarer. Her heart beat too violently in her bosom; a fierce fever
began to burn in her veins; she trembled with terror lest her strength
fail her before she reached her journey's end. It was not of Death
himself that she was afraid; but that he should overtake her before she
had seen her lover!

Husbanding her strength as shipwrecked sailors save their bread and
water, she counted the days and the miles to the journey's end, and
having arrived at the wharf of the Queen City, the pale young traveler
who had excited the compassion of the passengers, but who would neither
communicate the secret of her sorrow nor accept of any aid, took her
little bundle in her thin hand and started off on the last stage of her
weary pilgrimage. It was the hardest of all, for her money was exhausted
and there was nothing for her to do but walk.

It was a cold December day. Gray clouds lowered, wintry winds began to
moan, and she had proceeded but a little way when light flakes of snow
began to fall. The chill penetrated her thin clothing and shook her
fragile form. She moved more like a wraith than a living woman. Her
tired feet left such slight impressions in the snow that the feathery
flakes obliterated one almost before she had made another, and she was
haunted by the thought that every trace of her passage through life was
thus to disappear!

Ignorant of the distance or the exact direction, and stopping
occasionally to inquire the way, she plodded on, the exhaustion of
hunger and weariness becoming more and more unendurable. All that she
did now was done by the sheer force of will; but yield she would not.
She would die cheerfully when she had attained her object, but not
before. The winds became more wild and boisterous; they loosened and
tossed her black hair about her wan face; they beat against her person
and drove her back. Every step seemed the last one possible; but
suddenly