stairs. Mr.
Graham heard him, and hurrying to the door, recognized and followed
him--trying to explain and to persuade him to return. But he was too
much excited to listen. His reason prompted him to listen, but the Imp
of the Perverse laughed reason to scorn. Seeing disaster ahead he rushed
headlong to embrace it.

He understood--he understood, he reiterated. There was nothing to
explain. Mr. Graham had secured Dr. Griswold's services. Mr. Graham had
done well. No, not for any inducement would he consider returning.

He was gone! He was in the street--a wanderer! A beggar, he told
himself!

* * * * *

He wandered aimlessly about for an hour, then foot-sore--exhausted in
mind and body--he turned his face wearily in the direction of Spring
Garden, with its rose-embowered cottage sheltering exquisite
beauty--unalterable love--unfailing forgiveness--_heartsease_. He must
go home and tell "Muddie" and "Sissy" that he was a ruined man! Oh, if
they would only give him his desert for once! If they would only punish
him as he felt he should be punished. But they would not! They could
not--for they were angels. They were more--they were loving women filled
with that to which his mind and his soul bowed down and worshipped as
reverently as they worshipped God in Heaven--woman's love, with its
tenderness, its purity, and its unwavering steadfastness. They would
suffer--that horrible fear, the fear of the Wolf at the door which they
had not known in their beloved Spring Garden and since he had been with
_Graham's_ would again rob them of peace. They would bear it with meek
endurance, but they would not be able to hide it from him. He would see
it in the wistful eyes of Virginia and in the patient eyes of "Muddie."
But they would utter no reproach. They would soothe him with winning
endearments and bid him be of good cheer and would make a gallant fight
to show him that they were perfectly happy.

* * * * *

During the year and a half of Edgar Poe's connection with _Graham's
Magazine_ he had raised the number of subscribers from five thousand to
thirty-seven thousand. His salary, like that he had received from _The
Messenger_, had been a mere pittance for such service as he gave, but
also, like what he received from _The Messenger_ it had been a regular
income--a dependence. With the addition of the little checks paid him
for brilliant work in other periodicals, it