MESSENGER
278 |
| CHAPTER LXX. |
| WHAT MR. LESCOM SAID |
282 |
| CHAPTER LXXI. |
| A SHARP CORRESPONDENCE |
287 |
| CHAPTER LXXII. |
| OFFERS OF MARRIAGE AND OFFERS TO PUBLISH |
292 |
| CHAPTER LXXIII. |
| WHAT MR. TIBBETTS SAID ABOUT RUTH’S WRITING FOR THE HOUSEHOLD MESSENGER |
298 |
| CHAPTER LXXIV. |
| SOLILOQUY OF A SUB-EDITOR |
302 |
| CHAPTER LXXV. |
| MR. WALTER’S VISIT |
309 |
| CHAPTER LXXVI. |
| THE PHRENOLOGICAL EXAMINATION |
318 |
| CHAPTER LXXVII. |
| PUBLICATION DAY COMES AT LAST |
330 |
| CHAPTER LXXVIII. |
| HYACINTH CORNERED |
334 |
| CHAPTER LXXIX. |
| MR. LEWIS ENLIGHTENED |
338 |
| CHAPTER LXXX. |
| MORE LETTERS |
342 |
| CHAPTER LXXXI. |
| FRESHET IN THE DOCTOR’S CELLAR—“HAMS” IN DANGER OF A TOTAL WRECK—SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF RUTH—RESCUE OF LITTLE KATY |
348 |
| CHAPTER LXXXII. |
| ARRIVAL OF KATY WITH HER MOTHER, MR. WALTER, AND MR. GREY, AT NEW LODGINGS; DINNER AND LETTERS—CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN THE CHILDREN |
354 |
| CHAPTER LXXXIII. |
| THE LITTLE FAMILY ALONE AT THEIR NEW QUARTERS—NETTIE IN THE CONFESSION BOX—KATY’S MIRTH |
367 |
| CHAPTER LXXXIV. |
| KATY AND NETTIE COMPARE NOTES—RUTH DREAMS—MIDNIGHT CONFLAGRATION—RESCUE OF THE LITTLE FAMILY BY JOHNNY GALT |
372 |
| CHAPTER LXXXV. |
| TEA-TABLE TALK BETWEEN “THE WOODEN MAN” AND HIS SPOUSE—LETTER FROM “OUR JOHN” |
378 |
| CHAPTER LXXXVI. |
| THE OLD LADY EXTINGUISHED IN A CONVERSATION WITH HER NEIGHBORS, WHO ANNOUNCE THE ASTONISHING FACT THAT ‘FLOY’ IS RUTH |
383 |
| CHAPTER LXXXVII. |
| CONVERSATION BETWEEN RUTH’S FATHER AND MR. JONES REGARDING RUTH’S LITERARY DEBUT |
388 |
| CHAPTER LXXXVIII. |
| INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE LITERARY BOOKSELLER AND MR. WALTER |
391 |
| CHAPTER LXXXIX. |
| ARRIVAL OF MR. WALTER—BANK STOCK AND BANK CERTIFICATE |
394 |
| CHAPTER XC. |
| THE LAST VISIT TO HARRY’S GRAVE |
398 |
CHAPTER I.
The old church clock rang solemnly out on the midnight air. Ruth started. For hours she had sat there, leaning her cheek upon her hand, and gazing through the open space between the rows of brick walls, upon the sparkling waters of the bay, glancing and quivering ’neath the moon-beams. The city’s busy hum had long since died away; myriad restless eyes had closed in peaceful slumber; Ruth could not sleep. This was the last time she would sit at that little window. The morrow would find her in a home of her own. On the morrow Ruth would be a bride.
Ruth was not sighing because she was about to leave her father’s roof, (for her childhood had been anything but happy,) but she was vainly trying to look into a future, which God has mercifully veiled from curious eyes. Had that craving
