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went away a few moments since. We have been married 

 about a year. This house, No. 95 Columbia Avenue, is cur 

 home. "We are both orphans, and have no relations of any 

 kind, save an uncle of my husband's living in Arenac, 

 some fifty miles from the city. So far our married life has 

 been very happy. Our income was sufficient to give us a 

 home, comfortable, if not luxurious. But now a cloud had 

 risen. My husband and bread-winner was sick, and that 

 meant poverty. If he could not toil at his desk, our income 

 was at an end, and with all our economy we had laid aside 

 but a trifling sum for such a contingency as had now over- 

 taken us. Should he remain ill for many weeks, our case 

 would be desperate. Slowly turning over these things in 

 my mind, I sat gazing at the fire, and trying to build up in 

 the glowing coals some vision of the future. After a while, 

 weary with watching, I fell asleep in my chair. Suddenly 

 I seemed transported to some distant spot. I thought I was 

 in a quiet room somewhere in the country. The window 

 where I sat looked out upon meadows green, fair with 

 flowers. Graceful vines trailed over the casement and cast 

 a checkered shade on the floor. The sun was shining 

 brightly, and a gentle breeze just stirred the leaves upon 

 the tall trees that grew beside the house. Presently the 

 door opened, and Robert, my husband, entered, and, 'oh, 

 how changed ! He seemed ten years younger. Perfect 



