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 ONLY Ꭺ WOMAN AFTER ALL. 273.

rest. I suppose it would be useless to urge you to go to bed.

“Good-night, or good-morning.”

Again his hand touched mine, and sent the blood tingling to my cheeks.

I suppcese I’m a little goose to write all this; but it will be pleasant to look back upon when I have begun “my career,” as Mr. Barrington calls it.

There is one thing, I shall have the satisfaction of proving my theory to him, for he tells me he is coming here to live permanently. He does not mention my old home in any way, and I heartily thank him for it; for when I do have a chance to think, the awful sense of being utterly alone overwhelms me. I will lie down now, as I should have done before, had I not desired to chronicle this night while its impressions were strongest.

October 18th.—I have received an answer to my application for the secretaryship. It reads thus: “Dear Madam—We have received your note in regard to the position to be vacated in this Institution. A gentleman has already been engaged to fill the place; and even were it otherwise, we fear the duties are more arduous than a lady could perform,” which is a polite way of saying they don’t think a woman knows enough. When will the world learn that jus tice is better than generosity, plain truth than polite falsehood?

I am discouraged, though I told myself I would not be, at the first failure. I know the way I have chosen is hard, but I will struggle along it till 1 show my friends I am right.

Eliza is rapidly improving. She has slept much of the time since the night of the crisis, and the physician thinks she will be able to come down stairs the first of next week. Dr. Marly says my magnetic influence over her is good, so I spend all the time she is awake in her room.

John is like himself now, and is the same kind friend he has always been.

I cannot help contrasting in my own mind Eliza’s future with my own. Her husband is a generous, cultivated gentleman, devoted to her, and her life will flow happily and sweetly to the end. My future will be full of storms and darkness, through which, now and then, I shall catch glimpses of brightness and beauty that I can never reach. But I would not change with my friend. I have made my decision, and shall abide by it. After Eliza went to sleep this afternoon, I picked up my hat and went out into the garden for a walk in the delicious breeze. I had only gone half down the terrace when Mr. Barrington joined me. I was not inclined to talk, for I felt that every word I should utter would betray my disappointment, and to him of all persons I was unwilling to show it. He seemed to read my thoughts, for very soon he asked, Haven’t you succeeded in becoming secretary tO the Institution you told me about?”

I did not answer at first, and he added,

“Pardon me, if I seem inquisitive. I am very much interested in your experiment.”

“It is an experiment which will eventually succeed, though in this particular instance I have failed.”

“Undoubtedly it will succeed, since you are But now I suppose you won’t leave your friends so soon as you expected?”

This piqued me a little, for I felt as if he meant that I could not do without my friends; so I answered abruptly,

“I shall, probably, leave this house even sooner than I expected. Eliza is gaining so rapidly she will not need me much longer.”

«Then, if you are determined to go, won't you walk over to my new home with me, at this time to-morrow, and see a few improve alterations I have been making? It would gratify me very much.”

At. first I felt that I could not bear it; but I remembered the delicacy which changed on his lips the word improvements to alterations, and I knew I should suffer no more than I had the last time I was there. So I said, ‘I will go,” and came into the house.

October 30th.—How long it seems since I last made a record in this little book; and it is really only twelve days. Twelve such days as have never been to me before. When I accepted Mr. Barrington’s invitation, I never dreamed that little walk would revolutionize my whole life.

At the appointed hour I found him waiting for me on the piazza, and we walked on silently. I could scarcely keep the tears back as we neared the house. All that had been, all that was to come, enveloped me in a mist of thought. We went on, I following where he led, carefully noting the few changes he had made. They were improvements, and I knew it. At last we reached the family sitting-room, and,overpowered by tender emotions, I leaned my head against the window, weeping silently. Mr. Barrington took my hands, and said, gently,

"Dear child, I will not wait longer to tell you why I brought you here. I have found something for you to do. Be my wife. I want