CHAPTER XXV.

A RUDE AWAKENING.

Richard, upon arriving in New York, went immediately to a hotel. Though weary, he had stood the journey well and only needed a night's rest "to be almost as good as new," he said to himself.

When he awoke next morning, the sun was flooding into his room. He had slept till late and was greatly refreshed. He bounded to his feet and was soon dressed and ready for breakfast. He wrote a letter to Mr. Warren telling him of his arrival and how strong he felt. He sauntered forth and took interest in many sights of the streets of a great city, spending the time until the forenoon grew short, then turned his steps. up Fifth Avenue to find the home of Mr. Marshall.

He was ushered into the magnificent parlor. Instead of giving the maid his name, he had asked for Miss Marshall and had said, "tell her that an old friend has called." During the last two years her letters had

been so infrequent, and each one so full of ambitious schemes and so indifferent to him, that he had sometimes wondered if she cared for him at all and whether he himself really loved her as a man should love a woman he is to make his wife.

But the moment Kate stepped into the parlor, he felt the strange infatuation again. He was sitting in the corner and before she saw him he had a clear view of her. There were those wonderful eyes and hair, the graceful form which had rounded up during the years of separation, the expressive lips and the proud carriage.

He sprang toward her and spoke her name, "Kate."

She started and a frown passed across her face.

He did not see it in his eagerness, and in a moment had her in his arms.

In an instant he felt that she was not glad to see him. The room whirled around him. His arms set her free and he stood before her. The pallor of his face was like that of death.

"You are not glad to see me?" He spoke the words slowly and with an effort,

"No! I am not glad to see you. You should have known that I could not marry a slum worker. How can I care for a man that will throw himself away for good-fornothing people? I must move in the circle of wealth and culture. I am to marry soon a Count of Europe. I should have told you, but I thought you would see by my letters and the difference in our stations that a foolish whim of childhood had passed."

She had thrust her weapon home mercilessly. He looked at her a moment, then turned in a dazed way, took his hat, and walked out into the street.

He walked on and on, not noticing those he passed or where he was going. At times he felt weak and would stop and lean against a post. Then he would wander on. He had been so lonely and had looked forward to a companionship that would lighten and sweeten toil. Now the mirage had faded, just as he thought his expectations would be realized in a few months. The world would be a blank without the companionship of that beautiful and brilliant woman.

He at last noticed that he was out where the houses were scattered and that it was

growing dark. He must find some means of returning to his hotel. He had walked many miles, he knew by the traces of the country and by the weariness that he now felt. Fortunately, he saw a hackman returning to the city and engaged him to carry him back.

"You are sick, sir," spoke the hackman in a concerned way, as he saw his haggard face. "No-yes-that is-I have been," brokenly answered Richard.

"Shall I not take you to a doctor? urged the kind hearted man.

"No! No! I thank you, man, for your kindness. I need rest. Take me to the hotel."

It was a long drive and to the occupant of the carriage one of dark thoughts and unspeakable loneliness.

"How can I take up my work again?" he said to himself. "Can I go on in my ministry to weak and wicked and often unappreciative people, without the companionship I have craved? Have I not made a mistake in taking up such a thankless work?

"I ought to have known better," he burst

out again, "than to think she would leave her life for such a life as mine.

"It was cruel! It was cruel! She could see by my letters where she was leading me." With such exclamations at intervals on this ride, Richard revealed the wound he had received and the struggle which was going on.

When the hotel was reached and Richard passed through the office to his room the clerk, seeing his face and his uncertain step, shook his head and said to the proprietor,

"Too bad! too bad! How many young men are going wrong!"

He did not know his man.