A Hazard of New Fortunes, Part Fifth

m what had happened. It was nearly midnight when the Marches left them and walked away toward the Elevated station with Fulkerson. Everything had been done, by that time, that could be done; and Ful

e experienced. But she condoned the offence a little in herself, because her husband remained so constant in his gravity; and, pending the final accounting he must make her for having been where he could be of so much use from the first instant of the calamity, she was tenderly, gr

and there's nothing left but for them to bear it. Of course it's awful, but I

uld think," he went on, musingly, "that when God sees what we poor finite creatur

t she drew nearer to him for the words

hatever end He meant us for, He must have some such thrill of joy in our adequacy to fate as a father feels when his

't scoop any of us," said Fulk

rch. "I can't get his face out of my sig

ooks so in its presence. Death is peace and pardon. I only

nough," said Mrs. March. "I hop

t her theory of the case, which inexorabl

He whispered in March's ear, at a chance he got in mounting the station stairs: "I didn't like to tell you there at the hous

ed together, and tried to get strength to part for the night. They were all spent with the fatigue that comes fro

nd went out of the room without saying a word, an

ter be goun' too, father. He

, but the old man did not stir, and Mela called Mrs. Mandel

ipe. "It appears like folks hain't got any feelin's in New York. Woon't so

o that. Don't you bother any," Mela coaxed, and she

n't feel right to have

any more to see things

was on

. But she checked herself and said: "I know just how you feel, though. It keeps acomun' and agoun'; an

d man, gently, without moving. "Get yo

p with him, Jacob?"

, I'll set up.

he stren'th I did when the twins died. I must git my sleep, so's to-I don't like very well to have you broke of your rest, Jac

Mela; and she got her out of the room, w

"You tell Coonrod-" She stopped, and he

time passed, but neither moved, and the last noise in the house ceased, so that they heard each other breathe, and the vague, remote rumor of the cit

of the flowers that Fulkerson had brought, and that lay above the pulseless breast. The old man

! And he was always good, Coonrod was; I'll say that for him. I don't believe he ever give me a minute's care in his whole life. I reckon I liked him about the best of all the children; but I don't know as I ever done much to show it. But you was always good to him, Jacob; you always done the best for him, ever since he was a little feller. I used to be afraid you'd spoil him sometimes in them days; but I guess you're glad no