Mrs. Bright is still living at the little white cottage, happy in herself and happy in her children.  Bobby—­we mean Mr. Bright—­has hardly missed going to Riverdale on a Saturday night since he left home, eight years before.  He has the same partiality for those famous apple pies, and his mother would as soon think of being without bread as being without apple pies when he comes home.

Of course Squire Lee and Annie were always glad to see him when he came to Riverdale; and for two years it had been common talk in Riverdale that our hero did not go home on Sunday evening when the clock struck nine.  But as this is a forbidden topic, we will ask the reader to go with us to Mr. Bayard’s house in Chestnut Street.

What!  Annie Lee here?

No; but as you are here, allow me to introduce Mrs. Robert Bright.

They were married a few months before, and Mr. Bayard insisted that the happy couple should make their home at his house.

But where is Ellen Bayard?

O, she is Mrs. Bigelow now, and her husband is at the head of a large book establishment in New York.

Bobby’s dream had been realised, and he was the happiest man in the world—­at least he thought so, which is just the same thing.  He had been successful in business; his wife—­the friend and companion of his youth, the brightest filament of the bright vision his fancy had woven—­had been won, and the future glowed with brilliant promises.

He had been successful; but neither nor all of the things we have mentioned constituted his highest and truest success—­not his business prosperity, not the bright promise of wealth in store for him, not his good name among men, not even the beautiful and loving wife who had cast her lot with his to the end of time.  These were successes, great and worthy, but not the highest success.

He had made himself a man,—­this was his real success,—­a true, a Christian man.  He had lived a noble life.  He had reared the lofty structure of his manhood upon a solid foundation—­principle.  It is the rock which the winds of temptation and the rains of selfishness cannot move.

Robert Bright is happy because he is good.  Tom Spicer, now in the state prison, is unhappy,—­not because he is in the state prison, but because the evil passions of his nature are at war with the peace of his soul.  He has fed the good that was within him upon straw and husks, and starved it out.  He is a body only; the soul is dead in trespasses and sin.  He loves no one, and no one loves him.

During the past summer, Mr. Bright and his lady took a journey “down east.”  Annie insisted upon visiting the State Reform School; and her husband drove through the forest by which he had made his escape on that eventful night.  Afterwards they called upon Sam Ray, who had been “dead sure that Bobby would one day be a great man.”  He was about the same person, and was astonished and delighted when our hero introduced himself.