oughtfulness of himself of which he saw signs
everywhere. Could it be that he had been two years an exile from these
homelike comforts or had it been only one of his dreams? In spite of the
void her absence made, it was good to be back--good after his wanderings
to come into his own again.

In the hush and loneliness of those few days under the same roof, the
grief-stricken man and youth, their pride broken by their common sorrow,
came nearer together than they ever had been before. It seemed that the
gentle spirit of her whom each had loved hovered about them, binding
them to each other by invisible, but sacred, cords. John Allan spoke to
the players' son in tones that were almost fatherly and with quick
response, the tender-hearted youth became again the Edgar of the days
before reminders of his dependence upon charity had opened his eyes to
the difference between a real and an adopted father.

Under this reconciling influence, the youth poured out expressions of
penitence for the past and made resolutions for the future and Mr. Allan
promised to apply for the desired appointment to West Point, but added
that thereafter, he should consider himself relieved of all
responsibility concerning Edgar.

This blunt and ungracious assurance strained the bond between the
adopted father and son; the promised letter of application to the
Secretary of War, ruthlessly shattered it. That his indulgencies during
his year at the University of Virginia, so freely and earnestly
repented, should have been exposed in the letter seemed to the boy
unnecessary and cruel, but the man who had been fifteen years his
father, the husband of her over whom the grave had but just closed and
who had always loved him--Edgar--as an own and only son, had seen fit to
add to the declaration,

"He left me in consequence of some gambling debts at the University," a
disclaimer of even a sentimental interest in him!

"Frankly, Sir," the letter said, "I do declare that Edgar Poe is no
relation to me whatever; that I have many in whom I have taken an active
interest in order to promote theirs, with no other feeling than that
every man is my care, if he be in distress."

Edgar Poe duly presented the letter, but the bitterness which during his
brief visit home had been put to sleep, raised its head and robbed him
of all pleasure in his anticipated change and of much of the incentive
to put forth his best effort in it. He felt that the result of this
ungrac