Matters were growing desperate, thought Dr. Letsom on this autumn night, as he stood watching the chrysanthemums and the fading light in the western sky.  Money was becoming a rare commodity with him.  His housekeeper, Mrs. Galbraith had long been evincing signs of great discontent.  She had not enough for her requirements—­she wanted money for a hundred different things, and the doctor had none to give her.  The curtains were worn and shabby, the carpets full of holes, the furniture, though clean and well preserved, was totally insufficient.  In vain the doctor assured her he had not the means; after the fashion of weak-minded women, she grumbled incessantly.  On this night he felt overwhelmed with cares.  The rent due the preceding June had not been paid; the gas and coal accounts were still unsettled; the butcher had sent in his “little bill;” the baker had looked anything but pleased at the non-payment of his.  The doctor sadly wanted a new hat—­and he had hardly money in hand for the week’s expenses.  What was to be done?

Mrs. Galbraith retired to rest in a very aggrieved state of mind, and the doctor stood watching the stars, as they came out in the darkening sky.  He was tired of the struggle; life had not been a success with him; he had worked hard, yet nothing had prospered.  In youth he had loved a bright, pretty girl, who had looked forward to becoming his wife; but he had never married, because he had not had the means, and the pretty girl died a disappointed woman.  Now, as he watched the stars, he fancied them shining on her grave; fancied the grass waving above her head; studded with large white daisies; and he wished that he were lying by her side, free from care, and at rest.  Strong man as he was his eyes grew dim with tears, and his lips trembled with a deep-drawn, bitter sob.

He was turning away, with a feeling of contempt for his own weakness, when he was startled by the sound of a vehicle driven furiously down Castle street.  What vehicle could it be at that hour of the night—­nearly eleven?  Stephen Letsom stood still and watched.  He saw a traveling carriage, with two horses, driven rapidly up to the door of the principal hotel—­the Castle Arms—­and there stand for some few minutes.  It was too dark for him to see if any one alighted from it, or what took place; but, after a time the horses’ heads were turned, and then, like a roll of thunder, came the noise of the carriage-wheels.

The vehicle drew up before his door, and the doctor stood for a few moments as though paralyzed.  Then came a violent peal of the doorbell; and he knowing that Mrs. Galbraith had retired for the evening, went to answer it.  There indeed, in the starlight, were the handsome traveling carriage, the pair of gray horses, and the postilion.  Stephen Letsom looked about him like one in a dream.  He had been twenty years in the place, yet no carriage had ever stopped at his door.

He heard a quick, impatient voice, saying: