“Why haven’t you been here for so long, Stephen, when you knew how anxious I should be? And what have you to say to me from Harry about what I sent him? I should have thought I deserved a message of acknowledgment; but he does not even mention, in his very short notes, the help I have so often given him.” “He is ashamed to do so, Annie. But he is grateful to you all the same. He often talks to me about the sacrifices you must have made, and he thinks of them a great deal, I am sure.” “But that is not enough. He ought to speak to me about them, and, if he is too shy to do so by letter, I must hear him express his gratitude in person. Where is he living, Stephen? I must have his address,” said Annie, with determination. “I can’t give it you--I can’t indeed. I was afraid you would want to know it, and he has forbidden me to give it you; that is why I have kept away from you.” “And what reason have you both to give for this very singular refusal? What is Harry doing that he is ashamed to be seen by his own wife?” “He is not ashamed exactly; but he knows how proud you are, and he thinks, if you knew how he earns his living, you would look down upon him.” “Is it something so very disgraceful then?” “Perhaps you might call it so; at least he thinks so.” “Tell me what it is. Stephen, do tell me.” “I can’t. I swore to him I wouldn’t.” “Then am I never to know? Doesn’t he want ever to see me again?” “Some day, but not yet.” “But what difference can waiting make? If it is disgraceful now, it will always be disgraceful. But, if it is only that he has taken to earning his living by some employment not generally filled by gentlemen, why, I shall only respect him the more for sacrificing his pride! That is true indeed.” But all her arguments and entreaties did not move Stephen, who seemed very much agitated by her supplications, but doggedly refused to yield to them. That night she wrote a letter to her husband, sending it as usual to Stephen to be forwarded.