MRS. WORTH had arrived in Boston a few days after Sallie, coming direct by rail. She was still very weak from her recent attack, and it cut her to the heart to watch Sallie write those letters faithfully, and never mail them out of deference to her wishes.

One night she drew her daughter down and kissed her.

“Sallie, dear, you don’t know how it hurts me to see you suffer this way, and write, and write these letters your lover never sees. You may send him one letter a week, I don’t care what the General says.”

There was a sob and another kiss and, Sallie was crying on her breast.

In answer to her first letter, Gaston was thrilled with a new inspiration. He sat down that night and answered it in verse. All the deep longings of his soul, his hopes and fears, his pain and dreams he set in rhythmic music. Her mother read all his letters after Sallie. And she cried with sorrow and pride over this poem.

“Sallie, I don’t blame you for being proud of such a lover. Your life is rich hallowed by the love of such a man. Your father is wrong in his position. If I were a girl and held the love of such a man, I’d cherish it as I would my soul’s salvation. Be patient and faithful.”

“Sweet mother heart!” she whispered as she smoothed the grey hair tenderly.

Allan McLeod had arrived in Boston the day before and the morning’s papers were full of an interview with him on his brilliant achievement in breaking the ranks of the Bourbon Democracy in North Carolina, and the certainty of the success of his ticket at the approaching election.

McLeod sent the paper to Mrs. Worth by a special messenger, lest she might not see it, and that evening called. He asked Sallie to accompany him to the theatre, and when she refused spent the evening.

When her mother had retired McLeod drew his seat near her and again told her in burning words his love.

“Miss ‘Sallie, I have won the battle of life at its very threshold. I shall be a United States Senator in a few months. I want to lead you, my bride, into the gallery of the Senate before I walk down its aisles to take the oath. I have loved you faithfully for years. I have your father’s consent to my suit. I asked him before leaving on this trip. Surely you will not say no?”

“Allan McLeod, I do not love you. I do love another. I hate the sight of you and the sound of your voice.”