With a strange look, he lifted up his face.

“Hush!” said he; “you will waken her.  See how peacefully she sleeps!  I should not like to have her wakened now, she is so tired, and I—­I have not watched over her as I should.”

Appalled at his gesture, his look, his tone, Violet drew back, and for a few minutes no sound was to be heard but the steady dip-dip of the oars and the lap-lap of the waters against the boat.  Then there came a quick uprising, the swaying before her of something dark and tall and threatening, and before she could speak or move, or even stretch forth her hands to stay him, the seat before her was empty and darkness had filled the place where but an instant previous he had sat, a fearsome figure, erect and rigid as a sphinx.

What little moonlight there was, only served to show a few rising bubbles, marking the spot where the unfortunate man had sunk with his much-loved burden.  As the widening circles fled farther and farther out, the tide drifted the boat away, and the spot was lost which had seen the termination of one of earth’s saddest tragedies.

END OF PROBLEM VII

PROBLEM VIII

MISSING:  PAGE THIRTEEN

“One more! just one more well paying affair, and I promise to stop; really and truly to stop.”

“But, Puss, why one more?  You have earned the amount you set for yourself,—­or very nearly,—­and though my help is not great, in three months I can add enough—­”

“No, you cannot, Arthur.  You are doing well; I appreciate it; in fact, I am just delighted to have you work for me in the way you do, but you cannot, in your present position, make enough in three months, or in six, to meet the situation as I see it.  Enough does not satisfy me.  The measure must be full, heaped up, and running over.  Possible failure following promise must be provided for.  Never must I feel myself called upon to do this kind of thing again.  Besides, I have never got over the Zabriskie tragedy.  It haunts me continually.  Something new may help to put it out of my head.  I feel guilty.  I was responsible—­”

“No, Puss.  I will not have it that you were responsible.  Some such end was bound to follow a complication like that.  Sooner or later he would have been driven to shoot himself—­”

“But not her.”

“No, not her.  But do you think she would have given those few minutes of perfect understanding with her blind husband for a few years more of miserable life?”

Violet made no answer; she was too absorbed in her surprise.  Was this Arthur?  Had a few weeks’ work and a close connection with the really serious things of life made this change in him?  Her face beamed at the thought, which seeing, but not understanding what underlay this evidence of joy, he bent and kissed her, saying with some of his old nonchalance: