The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. Wary they might be. Then he was to arrest you and bring you home to me. . “She has improved her style,” someone declared. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. Your purpose is done. He perceived, however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in discountenanced these assumptions. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. Some Chinaman might take it into his head to shout: "Death to the foreign devils!" And out of that wall yonder would boil battle and murder and sudden death.
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