And between the open window and the blazing hearth the atmosphere of the room was soon improved. Then, about midnight, he retired to bed. But he was an uneasy sleeper, and had been so ever since that fatal fifteenth of September, when he fell under the power of the tempter and descended into the inferno. He passed a restless night, and with the earliest dawn of day he arose and dressed himself, went out to buy his breakfast, came in in a few minutes, kindled his fire, made his coffee and cooked his chops. When he had eaten his meal and set his room in order, he took his hat and set out to see Adler, and find out what was his chance of getting work. It was still very early in the morning; the sun but newly risen. He found Adler at breakfast, surrounded by his family. They all started up from the table to welcome their returned friend. Adler pressed him to join them at the meal; but Harcourt thanked him, and declined upon the reasonable ground that he had just finished his own breakfast. He took the chair that one of the children brought him, and sat down, answering all their kindly questions about his mother and himself, and asking some few of them concerning their welfare, until at last Adler arose from the table to go to his work. “You’ll excuse me, William. It is after six o’clock, and you know I have to go,” he said. “I will walk with you as far as the car,” Harcourt answered. “All right. I shall be glad to have your company.” Harcourt bade good-by to the family, and the two men walked out together. On their way, Harcourt made known his wish to get work on the road. “I don’t understand you, William! I don’t, indeed! I can’t see the use of a highly educated man like you hankering after this sort of work, hanged if I can!” said Adler. “We have discussed this subject before, my friend. You know my mind,” replied the young man. “Well, then, get in the car with me, and come along up. The contractor wants more hands than he can get just now. And—here comes our car.” As the car approached the crossing Adler hailed it. Both men boarded it, and were soon on their way uptown. Harcourt found no difficulty in getting work. He was taken on at once. And from this day his routine of hard, daily labor began. He wrote regularly to his mother, two letters each week, and he heard from her frequently, either by notes from herself or from Margaret Wynthrop. He knew that the aged lady continued in fair bodily health, though she did not improve in mental strength. His only satisfaction in thinking of her was that she was happy, comfortable, well cared for, and without the slightest suspicion of the straits to which her poor, only son had been reduced. So he labored on—humbly, patiently, heroically, as one waiting for an anticipated but an unknown denouément. And what denouément?