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PHOSPHOR.

The marriage was hurried on, and four months after our engagement we were married quietly. We went to London for our honeymoon and stayed there three weeks.

Those three weeks remain the one bright oasis in a life of misery.

We returned to Kent and lived in the same house as my mother.

Edith wrote to America, telling her father of our marriage, and trusting soon to see him. I did not think he would come, and I was right.

We waited impatiently for a reply, but none came.

Some time after we received a communication from Major Garren's solicitor, informing us of his death, and that in consequence of his daughter marrying me he had left all his money to charities.

For eight months I was happy, then misfortune came.

My wife died in giving birth to a son.

Three days later the baby died.

I was distracted.

I had brain fever, and was ill six months.

At the end of that time I was again able to move about, the shadow of my former self, thin and weakened by my illness.

My mother took me to the seaside, where we