As we look around the room in the soft fire-light we see the few old friends left from that awful slaughter when our household gods were sold; and best of all, in the low shelves at one end of the room are the dearly loved volumes, all that remain of our once fine library. [Illustration: "Redstone"--The Hall] We leave our chairs, and going arm-in-arm to the window stand watching the moon rise out of the sea. All is peace and contentment in this modest home wherein we plan to end our days, for at last we have found rest. The maid comes in the room, lights the lamps, draws the draperies over the windows and again we are alone. From my writing-table I take up the letter received from my publishers by the last mail. It has been read and re-read, but again I read it aloud. It tells such good news. From the profits of my book I have already satisfied my creditors, repaid Mrs. Slater, bought our home and secured a moderate income. "Still," the publishers write, "there seems no end to the demand for 'Romance and Tragedy'"; and they enclose a handsome cheque, one of many that have reached me. My wife kisses me and--I awaken. 'Tis but a dream--will it come true? The public must decide. CHAPTER LI "FROM GOD AND THE KING" After the "Dream" came a trying period; long and exasperating delay in the publication of the book; frequent promising but unsuccessful efforts to secure a business connection that would afford a living for my family; a continued strain which my nervous system was ill prepared to stand and always, just when it seemed as though there was no way to turn, some light and help came. My contract with my publisher called for some financial contribution from me--not a large sum, expressed in dollars, but monumental in the effort required to raise it. Most of the amount was gained through advance sales of the book, the rest I was forced reluctantly, to raise in small loans. This was accomplished after much correspondence, chiefly with my former customers in the trade. Amongst others to whom I wrote requesting assistance in this matter was one man, formerly a broker in New York and to whose firm I had given a good deal of business in the old days. He is now connected with the Chicago branch of one of the trusts. He returned my letter after writing across it in red ink: "Had you not held your head so d--n high in your halcyon days, I might respond. You should look to the 'Four Hundred' for help." Consumed with envy in the days of my success, it afforded him, no doubt, some gratification to kick a man when he is down, but his effort brought only a smile--the animus was so apparent and the effort so feeble. At last! The book was published. A few copies were sent to the press; the advance orders filled and then I commenced a canvass by mail to dispose of the remainder of the edition. Perhaps one-quarter of my sales were to strangers, the rest to people who knew me, or knew of me, in business and social life.