so-called cousin.

Upon her return on Monday she suddenly declared her intention of leaving
me, adding that she cared not what became of me. I calmly awaited a lull
in the excitement of this announcement, and told her kindly that if she
would remain with, me another week I would take her to her mother in Ohio,
and leave her in her hands, but she haughtily and peremptorily declined,
and so left me alone, and, as she supposed, uncared for.

But I was so confident of protection that I felt not even a rankling pang
at the cruel injustice she had done me, but quietly waited until assured
she was gone, when I left my room, groped my way through the unfamiliar
hall and knocked at the first door I found, which fortunately proved to be
that of a lady named Harris. In as few words as possible I told her the
story of my desertion, and had sympathy and congratulation from all in the
house at my escape from one who had seemed to them so coarse and
unsympathetic.

The clerk of the hotel, being a brother of Mr. Loughery, my old time
teacher, it was thought best to appeal to him. He met me with an
unmistakable expression of sorrow on his face, and as soon as he could
command language to do so, communicated the tidings of the sudden demise
of his brother in Greensburg, Pa., he having fallen dead in the street. As
he was about leaving, assistance from that source became impossible; yet,
overwhelmed as he was with this crushing sorrow, he urged me to accompany
him to the funeral, an invitation I could not accept, for a renewal of the
sad memories of my instructor and friend would have been _more_ than I
could bear, so I bade him adieu, and committed myself to the tender mercy
of Mrs. Harris, who kindly accompanied me to the post office and depot,
and started me safely toward Chicago, a letter being received which I knew
to be from Mr. Arms, from whom I had been awaiting tidings for three,
anxious, weary weeks.

With a consciousness of some impending cloud, yet unable to read the dear
pen tracery, I never before so deeply felt the blight of blindness, for
the contents were too sacred for the desecration of stranger's sight.

So all through that weary journey, softened as it was by the unremitting
kindness of all the railroad officials and attendants, I carried a
crushing weight of anxiety and suspense, until I reached Chicago, and dear
Mrs. Dean, who at once revealed to my waiting heart the contents of the
letter.

Mr. Arms was in I