From such a home and such surroundings it would not have been strange if he had grown weary of the rough life out West, and deserted his wife, who was beneath him in station.

But he had not.

He had stayed by her all the years.

True, he had not been of much use to her, and much of the time had been but a burden and anxiety; but he had stayed and loved her--when he was sober.

She forgave him his many trying ways, his faultfindings with her mother's many little blunders--no wonder, when he came from this place.
The butler tapped on a door at the head of the stairs, and a maid swung it open.
"Why, you're not the girl Mrs.Sands sent the other day," said a querulous voice from a mass of lace-ruffled pillows on the great bed.
"I am Elizabeth," said the girl, as if that were full explanation.
"Elizabeth?
Elizabeth who?
I don't see why she sent another girl.