Download the full version and explore a variety of ebooks

or textbooks at https://ebookultra.com

MATLAB control systems engineering 1st ed Edition

Pérez López

_____ Follow the link below to get your download now _____

https://ebookultra.com/download/matlab-control-systems-
engineering-1st-ed-edition-perez-lopez/

Access ebookultra.com now to download high-quality

ebooks or textbooks
We have selected some products that you may be interested in
Click the link to download now or visit ebookultra.com
for more options!.

Starting Out The c3 Sicilian 1st Edition John Emms

https://ebookultra.com/download/starting-out-the-c3-sicilian-1st-
edition-john-emms/

Thomas Killigrew Cavalier Dramatist 1612 83 Alfred Harbage

https://ebookultra.com/download/thomas-killigrew-cavalier-
dramatist-1612-83-alfred-harbage/

Advances in Cancer Research Vol 83 1st Edition George

Klein (Editor)

https://ebookultra.com/download/advances-in-cancer-research-
vol-83-1st-edition-george-klein-editor/

The Anti Alapin Gambit Death to the 2 c3 Sicilian 1st

Edition Cyrus Lakdawala

https://ebookultra.com/download/the-anti-alapin-gambit-death-to-
the-2-c3-sicilian-1st-edition-cyrus-lakdawala/
Linear Control Systems with Matlab Applications 12th
Edition B.S. Manke

https://ebookultra.com/download/linear-control-systems-with-matlab-
applications-12th-edition-b-s-manke/

Linear Multivariable Control Systems Shankar P.

Bhattacharyya

https://ebookultra.com/download/linear-multivariable-control-systems-
shankar-p-bhattacharyya/

Food of Vietnam 83 Easy to Follow Recipes from the Country

s Major Regions Trieu Thi Choi

https://ebookultra.com/download/food-of-vietnam-83-easy-to-follow-
recipes-from-the-country-s-major-regions-trieu-thi-choi/

Able Archer 83 The Secret History of the NATO Exercise

That Almost Triggered Nuclear War Nate Jones

https://ebookultra.com/download/able-archer-83-the-secret-history-of-
the-nato-exercise-that-almost-triggered-nuclear-war-nate-jones/

Engineering computation with MATLAB 2nd ed Edition David M

Smith

https://ebookultra.com/download/engineering-computation-with-
matlab-2nd-ed-edition-david-m-smith/
MATLAB control systems engineering 1st ed Edition
Pérez López Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Pérez López, César
ISBN(s): 9781484202906, 1484202902
Edition: 1st ed
File Details: PDF, 6.21 MB
Year: 2014
Language: english
For your convenience Apress has placed some of the front
matter material after the index. Please use the Bookmarks
and Contents at a Glance links to access them.
Contents at a Glance

About the Author�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ix

■■Chapter 1: Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment��������������������������1

■■Chapter 2: Variables, Numbers, Operators and Functions�����������������������������������������������23
■■Chapter 3: Control Systems���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������77
■■Chapter 4: Robust Predictive Control����������������������������������������������������������������������������145

iii
Chapter 1

Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB

Working Environment

Introduction
MATLAB is a platform for scientific calculation and high-level programming which uses an interactive environment
that allows you to conduct complex calculation tasks more efficiently than with traditional languages, such as C, C++
and FORTRAN. It is the one of the most popular platforms currently used in the sciences and engineering.
MATLAB is an interactive high-level technical computing environment for algorithm development, data
visualization, data analysis and numerical analysis. MATLAB is suitable for solving problems involving technical
calculations using optimized algorithms that are incorporated into easy to use commands.
It is possible to use MATLAB for a wide range of applications, including calculus, algebra, statistics, econometrics,
quality control, time series, signal and image processing, communications, control system design, testing and
measuring systems, financial modeling, computational biology, etc. The complementary toolsets, called toolboxes
(collections of MATLAB functions for special purposes, which are available separately), extend the MATLAB
environment, allowing you to solve special problems in different areas of application.
In addition, MATLAB contains a number of functions which allow you to document and share your work.
It is possible to integrate MATLAB code with other languages and applications, and to distribute algorithms and
applications that are developed using MATLAB.
The following are the most important features of MATLAB:
• It is a high-level language for technical calculation
• It offers a development environment for managing code, files and data
• It features interactive tools for exploration, design and iterative solving
• It supports mathematical functions for linear algebra, statistics, Fourier analysis, filtering,
optimization, and numerical integration
• It can produce high quality two-dimensional and three-dimensional graphics to aid data
visualization
• It includes tools to create custom graphical user interfaces
• It can be integrated with external languages, such as C/C++, FORTRAN, Java, COM, and
Microsoft Excel
The MATLAB development environment allows you to develop algorithms, analyze data, display data files and
manage projects in interactive mode (see Figure 1-1).

1
Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

Figure 1-1.  

Developing Algorithms and Applications

MATLAB provides a high-level programming language and development tools which enable you to quickly develop
and analyze algorithms and applications.
The MATLAB language includes vector and matrix operations that are fundamental to solving scientific and
engineering problems. This streamlines both development and execution.
With the MATLAB language, it is possible to program and develop algorithms faster than with traditional
languages because it is no longer necessary to perform low-level administrative tasks, such as declaring variables,
specifying data types and allocating memory. In many cases, MATLAB eliminates the need for ‘for’ loops. As a result,
a line of MATLAB code usually replaces several lines of C or C++ code.
At the same time, MATLAB offers all the features of traditional programming languages, including arithmetic
operators, control flow, data structures, data types, object-oriented programming (OOP) and debugging.
Figure 1-2 shows a communication modulation algorithm that generates 1024 random bits, performs the
modulation, adds complex Gaussian noise and graphically represents the result, all in just nine lines of MATLAB code.

2
 Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

Figure 1-2.  

MATLAB enables you to execute commands or groups of commands one at a time, without compiling or linking,
and to repeat the execution to achieve the optimal solution.
To quickly execute complex vector and matrix calculations, MATLAB uses libraries optimized for the processor.
For general scalar calculations, MATLAB generates instructions in machine code using JIT (Just-In-Time) technology.
Thanks to this technology, which is available for most platforms, the execution speeds are much faster than for
traditional programming languages.
MATLAB includes development tools, which help efficiently implement algorithms. Some of these tools are
listed below:
• MATLAB Editor – used for editing functions and standard debugging, for example setting
breakpoints and running step-by-step simulations
• M-Lint Code Checker - analyzes the code and recommends changes to improve performance
and maintenance (see Figure 1-3)

3
Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

Figure 1-3.  

• MATLAB Profiler - records the time taken to execute each line of code
• Directory Reports - scans all files in a directory and creates reports about the efficiency of the
code, differences between files, dependencies of files and code coverage
You can also use the interactive tool GUIDE (Graphical User Interface Development Environment) to design and
edit user interfaces. This tool allows you to include pick lists, drop-down menus, push buttons, radio buttons and
sliders, as well as MATLAB diagrams and ActiveX controls. You can also create graphical user interfaces by means of
programming using MATLAB functions.
Figure 1-4 shows a completed wavelet analysis tool (bottom) which has been created using the user
interface GUIDE (top).

4
 Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

Figure 1-4.  

Data Access and Analysis

MATLAB supports the entire process of data analysis, from the acquisition of data from external devices
and databases, pre-processing, visualization and numerical analysis, up to the production of results in
presentation quality.
MATLAB provides interactive tools and command line operations for data analysis, which include: sections of
data, scaling and averaging, interpolation, thresholding and smoothing, correlation, Fourier analysis and filtering,
searching for one-dimensional peaks and zeros, basic statistics and curve fitting, matrix analysis, etc.

5
Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

The diagram in Figure 1-5 shows a curve that has been fitted to atmospheric pressure differences averaged
between Easter Island and Darwin in Australia.

Figure 1-5.  

The MATLAB platform allows efficient access to data files, other applications, databases and external devices.
You can read data stored in most known formats, such as Microsoft Excel, ASCII text files or binary image, sound and
video files, and scientific archives such as HDF and HDF5 files. The binary files for low level I/O functions allow you to
work with data files in any format. Additional features allow you to view Web pages and XML data.
It is possible to call other applications and languages, such as C, C++, COM, DLLs, Java, FORTRAN, and Microsoft
Excel objects, and access FTP sites and Web services. Using the Database Toolbox, you can even access ODBC/JDBC
databases.

6
 Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

Data Visualization
All graphics functions necessary to visualize scientific and engineering data are available in MATLAB. This includes
tools for two- and three-dimensional diagrams, three-dimensional volume visualization, tools to create diagrams
interactively, and the ability to export using the most popular graphic formats. It is possible to customize diagrams,
adding multiple axes, changing the colors of lines and markers, adding annotations, LaTeX equations and legends,
and plotting paths.
Various two-dimensional graphical representations of vector data can be created, including:
• Line, area, bar and sector diagrams
• Direction and velocity diagrams
• Histograms
• Polygons and surfaces
• Dispersion bubble diagrams
• Animations
Figure 1-6 shows linear plots of the results of several emission tests of a motor, with a curve fitted to the data.

Figure 1-6.  

7
Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

MATLAB also provides functions for displaying two-dimensional arrays, three-dimensional scalar data and
three-dimensional vector data. It is possible to use these functions to visualize and understand large amounts
of complex multi-dimensional data. It is also possible to define the characteristics of the diagrams, such as the
orientation of the camera, perspective, lighting, light source and transparency. Three-dimensional diagramming
features include:
• Surface, contour and mesh plots
• Space curves
• Cone, phase, flow and isosurface diagrams
Figure 1-7 shows a three-dimensional diagram of an isosurface that reveals the geodesic structure of a fullerene
carbon-60 molecule.

Figure 1-7.  

MATLAB includes interactive tools for graphic editing and design. From a MATLAB diagram, you can perform
any of the following tasks:
• Drag and drop new sets of data into the figure
• Change the properties of any object in the figure
• Change the zoom, rotation, view (i.e. panoramic), camera angle and lighting

8
 Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

• Add data labels and annotations

• Draw shapes
• Generate an M-file for reuse with different data
Figure 1-8 shows a collection of graphics which have been created interactively by dragging data sets onto the
diagram window, making new subdiagrams, changing properties such as colors and fonts, and adding annotations.

Figure 1-8.  

MATLAB is compatible with all the well-known data file and graphics formats, such as GIF, JPEG, BMP, EPS,
TIFF, PNG, HDF, AVI, and PCX. As a result, it is possible to export MATLAB diagrams to other applications, such as
Microsoft Word and Microsoft PowerPoint, or desktop publishing software. Before exporting, you can create and apply
style templates that contain all the design details, fonts, line thickness, etc., necessary to comply with the publication
specifications.

9
Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

Numerical Calculation
MATLAB contains mathematical, statistical, and engineering functions that support most of the operations carried
out in those fields. These functions, developed by math experts, are the foundation of the MATLAB language. To cite
some examples, MATLAB implements mathematical functions and data analysis in the following areas:
• Manipulation of matrices and linear algebra
• Polynomials and interpolation
• Fourier analysis and filters
• Statistics and data analysis
• Optimization and numerical integration
• Ordinary differential equations (ODEs)
• Partial differential equations (PDEs)
• Sparse matrix operations

Publication of Results and Distribution of Applications

In addition, MATLAB contains a number of functions which allow you to document and share your work. You can
integrate your MATLAB code with other languages and applications, and distribute your algorithms and MATLAB
applications as autonomous programs or software modules.
MATLAB allows you to export the results in the form of a diagram or as a complete report. You can export
diagrams to all popular graphics formats and then import them into other packages such as Microsoft Word or
Microsoft PowerPoint. Using the MATLAB Editor, you can automatically publish your MATLAB code in HTML format,
Word, LaTeX, etc. For example, Figure 1-9 shows an M-file (left) published in HTML (right) using the MATLAB Editor.
The results, which are sent to the Command Window or to diagrams, are captured and included in the document and
the comments become titles and text in HTML.

10
 Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

Figure 1-9.  

It is possible to create more complex reports, such as mock executions and various parameter tests, using
MATLAB Report Generator (available separately).
MATLAB provides functions enabling you to integrate your MATLAB applications with C and C++ code,
FORTRAN code, COM objects, and Java code. You can call DLLs and Java classes and ActiveX controls. Using the
MATLAB engine library, you can also call MATLAB from C, C++, or FORTRAN code.
You can create algorithms in MATLAB and distribute them to other users of MATLAB. Using the MATLAB
Compiler (available separately), algorithms can be distributed, either as standalone applications or as software
modules included in a project, to users who do not have MATLAB. Additional products are able to turn algorithms
into a software module that can be called from COM or Microsoft Excel.

The MATLAB Working Environment

Figure 1-10 shows the primary workspace of the MATLAB environment. This is the screen in which you enter your
MATLAB programs.

11
Chapter 1 ■ Introducing MATLAB and the MATLAB Working Environment

Menu Command window Help Working folder Workspace

Start button Window size Commands Command history

Figure 1-10.  

The following table summarizes the components of the MATLAB environment.

Tool Description
Command History This allows you to see the commands entered during the session in the Command
Window, as well as copy them and run them (lower right part of Figure 1-11)
Command Window This is where you enter MATLAB commands (central part of Figure 1-11)
Workspace This allows you to view the contents of the workspace (variables, etc.) (upper right part of
Figure 1-11)
Help This offers help and demos on MATLAB
Start button This enables you to run tools and provides access to MATLAB documentation (Figure 1-12)

12
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 “Oh, I don’t know,” said the girl who had spoken before, looking
around to catch a glimpse of it. “I sold a hat for fifteen cents just
before you came in.”
“This is very good,” said Mrs. Briarley.
“Ask a quarter for it, then. For goodness’ sake, Gladys, don’t you
get faint!”
“I’ll take it myself,” said Mrs. Briarley, hastily. “My—my cook might
like it.” She put it back in the box and tied the string around it. “The
atmosphere in here is dreadful, isn’t it? Can’t I help you open that
window? Here’s the money. Good-bye!”
She had done it! She could hardly believe in the miracle. Not only
would she have the happy thrill of responding to the appeal with her
own precious and individual five dollars, but the very price she had
paid for the hat went to the cause also, and she had money left over
besides! And she had the hat!
She felt awestricken at so much reward of virtue. It was like seek
ye first the kingdom of righteousness and all these things shall be
added unto you. If she had said her cook might like the hat, that
was no lie; her cook well might. And she was so glad that she had
enough humility herself to wear a rummage hat! Underneath all the
simplicity of her vanity lay an earnest and tremulous joy in being
more what the mother of Emily should be.
It has been stated that Mrs. Briarley did not belong to the Guild.
She passed a delegation from it, indeed, the next day, all busily
talking together; but there was nobody in it whom she even knew to
bow to. She was perhaps the only woman in the parish who did not
know of the exciting incident at present disturbing it, the facts of
which were being now recounted once again.
“Yes, the hat was almost new; it was a present to Mrs. Beatoun
from her cousin. It was a beauty. Mrs. Beatoun was going out to
lunch, and she sent the Peters boy back to the parsonage to get
some bundles for the rummage sale, and that stupid new girl of hers
gave him the box with the hat in it with the other things from her
room. She had left it on the bed. So off it went to the sale. The only
one who remembers anything about it is Gladys Tucker, and she
doesn’t remember much, she had such a headache. She says a lady
—she thinks it was a lady—came in and bought one for a quarter;
she heard her talking to Nannie Leduc. Gladys didn’t even see it; the
place was full of Italians. Of course the woman took advantage.”
“Those girls are so scatter-brained! But no lady would have
bought a hat there.”
“That’s just what I say. If she did, she must have known it was a
mistake. That hat cost thirty dollars, and it had been worn twice.
And to pay only a quarter for it! It was as bad as stealing. You know
how reserved Mrs. Beatoun is, but she’s decided, very. Well, she did
say that if she saw any woman with it on she thought she would
really walk up to her and speak about it. It’s the effrontery of the
thing that’s so maddening.”
“Mrs. Beatoun never seemed to care much for clothes,” said one
lady.
“I suppose she’s human, like the rest of us,” said the first, grimly.
“She’s worn that black straw of hers five summers.”
“I do believe she’d rather go without than not have just the right
thing,” said yet another. “Her family always thought a great deal of
themselves, I’ve been told.”
“Well, they have a right to,” said the first speaker again. “Mrs.
Beatoun’s a good woman, but I didn’t blame her for being angry to-
day. When she’s worked as hard as she has for the church, to be
cheated in this way! And Gladys Tucker says she’s sure it was a lady.
Well, I told Mrs. Beatoun one thing. I said, ‘Be sure we’ll all look out
for her!’”
Through all the week in which the disappearance of Mrs.
Beatoun’s Paris hat was canvassed Mrs. Briarley remained happily
unconscious.
 The excitement had reached fever-heat on Easter Sunday, that
Sunday on which Mrs. Briarley’s precious five-dollar bill was solemnly
laid in the contribution plate. She, all her little lone self, was actually
paying off part of the church debt! It seemed to her as she left the
church that several women looked at her rather oddly—or was it at
her hat? She had changed the trimming a little in the front. Perhaps
they were admiring it.
She had expected to take little Emily to the children’s service in
the afternoon, and when the child fell asleep instead, she went by
herself. The service was pretty; it was full of flowers and music and
children’s voices. When it was ended she stood in the vestibule,
lingering, with her eyes fixed on a group of women talking to Mrs.
Beatoun.
Suddenly Mrs. Beatoun detached herself from the group and came
forward, with tall figure held erect. There was a breathless pause.
Those who were there knew that the wearer of the hat and the
owner of the hat had met at last.
“Oh,” said Mrs. Briarley, “I’m so glad you came to speak to me!
I’ve been just hoping that you would!”
“Indeed!” said Mrs. Beatoun.
“I wanted to tell you—I’ve never enjoyed going to church as I
have to-day.” Mrs. Briarley raised her rapt eyes to those of the
rector’s wife, who wore a little half-cynical smile. “I think your
husband preaches such beautiful sermons. I never heard any that
made me feel so much like—like wanting to be good.” Her voice
dropped shyly.
“That is very nice, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Beatoun, politely. “May I
ask where you got your hat?”
“Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” said Mrs. Briarley. She was so full of
her own earnestness of purpose that she kept on, oblivious to the
chill in Mrs. Beatoun’s tone. Her cheeks became pink, her eyes
suffused. “I bought it at the rummage sale. Of course it must have
been worn before, although it doesn’t look it. I bought it because—
I’ve been wanting to tell you that after Mr. Beatoun’s appeal I
couldn’t spend the five dollars I had meant to on a hat, although I
needed one. I just bought this at the sale, and gave the money to
the church. I thought Mr. Beatoun might like to know he had made
somebody feel that way. I never have thought of—things—before,
and I wanted to thank him. I have been saying to myself, as I stood
here, that if you came forward to speak to me, I’d take it as a—sign
that I was to tell you this.”
She paused a moment, and then went on. (While you were
unburdening your heart, why not tell all?)
“I have a dear little girl at home, and I do so want to learn to be
better—for her sake. And I’ve thought if I could know you—I’ve been
sort of afraid of you before, but I’m not now. And I love my little girl
so very much——” She stopped again.
Something passed from one to the other as they stood there—
Mrs. Briarley did not know what. There was a wonderful and sweet
gentleness in the face of the older woman as it bent to the simple
earnestness of the other. Mrs. Briarley’s one little thought of truth
had unerringly met and rounded its circle. It is not only at the
sacramental table that we are partakers together of the Bread of
Life.
“I’m so glad you told me!” said Mrs. Beatoun. She was not a
demonstrative woman, but in that pause she had put her arms
round Mrs. Briarley and kissed her, under the very shade of the
rummage hat.
“And Mr. Beatoun will be glad, too. No, indeed, you must never be
afraid of me again; and you must bring your little girl to see us. It
was just sweet of you to think of telling me about the hat.”
“I’ve noticed people looking at it,” said Mrs. Briarley, all in a glow.
“I never thought until to-day that it might be a mistake about its
being sent to the sale. But you don’t think so?”
“No, it’s not a mistake,” said Mrs. Beatoun, with a sudden smile, as
she added “and I’m in a position to know.”
 “Yes, I’ve joined the Guild,” said Mrs. Briarley, with pride in her
tone. “They’ve made me secretary already.” She did not know how
cordially that position was made the portion of the stranger. She was
talking to her husband the evening of his return.
“Mrs. Beatoun couldn’t have been more interested about that five
dollars if she had given it herself. You’ve no idea how nice everybody
in the Guild is to me; they seem to take pains to be kind. But Mrs.
Beatoun—there’s something about Mrs. Beatoun I can’t explain!”
“Well?” said her husband, enjoyingly. Mrs. Briarley was in a
washed white muslin, with ribbons the exact blue of her innocent
eyes. She did not look as if she could be the mother of an Emily.
“I believe Mrs. Beatoun is really—fond of me!”
“That’s very strange,” said Mrs. Briarley’s husband.
 Madonna of the Toys: A Christmas
Story

Madonna of the Toys: A Christmas Story

“I don’t know what to give him for Christmas!”
Mrs. Tom looked tragically at the group consulting over their
father-in-law in the old-fashioned library. Miss Clara, the unmarried
daughter, had left the room.
“We have a picture,” announced Mrs. Andrew complacently; “a
cathedral interior, beautifully dark and perspective. Little Mary has a
cup and saucer, and Francis a whisk broom.”
“My boys can give black-bordered silk handkerchiefs,” said Mrs.
Frank. “Clara suggests that I have that armchair re-covered, the one
he never sits in.”
“Malcolm had better get him another dozen cases of mineral
water,” said Mrs. Malcolm. “When it’s in the house he drinks it. But
that hardly seems enough, father’s so generous to us. I shall buy a
small refrigerator for his room—it’s so useful in sickness.”
“What do you think of rubber water-bags in assorted sizes?”
suggested Mrs. Walter eagerly. “If he had a pain in two or three
places at once they’d be very handy.”
“Ah!” Mrs. Frank lowered her voice. “I dread coming here
Christmas afternoon and staying to supper; don’t you? We can get
along all right, and the little girls bring their dolls, but boys are so
restless—and men, too! It was so different when Kate and her
children were living here, but last year——! Clara doesn’t know how
to make the house attractive.”
“She worries so now that father has to stay up-stairs,” agreed Mrs.
Malcolm feelingly. “The boys love their grandfather, but there’s
nothing for them to do. Why, Violet, you’re not going?”
“I must,” answered a girl with reddish hair and pretty, long-lashed
eyes, who was Mrs. Arthur. She had risen, and was throwing a white
boa around her neck. Her white teeth flashed suddenly in a smile: “I
never was of so much importance before. Good-bye, everybody!”
She ran down the hall, looking in at an open doorway to call an
audacious “Last tag!” to a tall old man who sat there reading, and
receive his quick, amused response before she went swiftly
homeward.
Violet’s appointment with the baby was very important indeed. As
she sat afterwards in the darkened nursery, with the infant’s little
downy head against her warm breast, her thoughts went back to
grandfather. Somehow his Christmas prospects depressed her—the
dark picture and the mineral water, the re-covered chair, the
refrigerator and the rubber bags seemed so unlightsome; there was
nothing from which the most willing mind could conjure festivity.
Even the perennial handkerchiefs and whisk brooms and cups and
saucers failed to cheer her. It seemed dreadful to be so old that you
weren’t supposed to want anything anybody else did, to have
everything so tiresomely suitable. Violet had an irreverent desire to
send her father-in-law a pink necktie or a flippant poster.
There could be no greater contrast to the needs of Age than this
softly-curtained place, with its white furniture, and a blue rug in
front of the brass andirons on which the pine logs burned
aromatically. A blue and white bassinet swung by a gilded rod, and a
white willow hamper showed the blue satin-lined tray, filled with
miniature ivory toilet articles, and tiny garments, laced and ribboned
—all the dainty appanage of a “first” baby.
 A silver and mother-of-pearl rattle and a French clown, belled and
tinselled, on a white stick, lay upon the blue table-cover, while a
large drum, fastened on the wall above, showed that in the pride of
welcoming a boy love hadn’t been able to wait for him to grow into
his heritage.
Her sisters-in-law characterized Violet fondly as a mere child; in
truth she was a jolly little girl, but underneath the jollity were the
directness and insight, and the shy, deep feeling of a child, so
hidden as to be almost unguessed. Only her husband saw and
reverenced that unfathomed sweetness. But even he did not know
of those far-off journeys which her spirit took in company with her
little new-born son, in the wonder of his soft, warm mouth, his tiny
feet, and unconscious, clasping fingers.
The birth of her child had been to Violet also the birth of Thought;
she pondered on the mysteries; for the first time she realized the
existence of that great chain whose links are composed alternately
of life and death, with the coming and the going of generations. In
this infant life she saw the time when her own days should be
numbered, and grew pale, yet unafraid, as she held him closer,
because the goodness of God was so near.
He was such a very little baby that he was not much of anything
as yet to any one but his mother, though his father was indeed
unmeasurably proud of him as a son and heir, and regarded him
with deeply expectant, if amused, affection. But to Violet he was a
wellspring not only of the traditional pleasure but of infinitely more.
As one who stands with the ear to a sea-shell, rapt with the sound
of the mysterious murmurs of the far-off ocean, so Violet, when she
sat bending over her baby, felt a deep, tremulous connection with
beautiful, unseen things that were holiness unto the Lord. She was
so happy that she longed for every one to be happy; her child-heart
even yearned maternally over grandfather, who had lived so many
years that people couldn’t see that he was still young. She was a
partner in the secret; if she called “Last tag” to him it was because
she knew he liked it. He was a kind, wise old man, who submitted
patiently to Miss Clara’s fusses and restrictions because he saw the
love back of them; and he had lived his life so fully and well that it
did not seem worth while to strive to live it now. Yet sometimes, as
Violet divined, he was contented to dwell in the past because the
present was a little lonely now that the house was no longer the
rallying-place for the young, as in the time of his daughter Kate, who
had children of her own.
“Little blessedest! I want your grandfather to have a Merry
Christmas,” said Violet confidingly to the baby in her arms, who
raised his tiny lashes as if in response, and looked at her an instant
before the lids fell shut again. She pressed him closer in adoration.
“Oh, aren’t you sweet, aren’t you sweet!” and fell to kissing him
softly, a process from which she found that mothers gain wisdom.
“Did you decide what to get for father yesterday?” asked her
husband the next morning. He was a man of noticeably fine
appearance, and a lawyer of repute; it was still a wonder in the
family how he had ever come to marry Violet, who yet seemed to
suit him exactly.
“No,” answered Violet
“Then I think you’d better get that new dictionary I was speaking
of; it’s published by Worden. I’ll leave you the money.”
“I thought he had so many dictionaries.”
“My dear child, that’s just the reason for giving him another.”
“I will not get him a dictionary,” said Violet. Yet she weakened
after a tour through the shops. She could find nothing for her father-
in-law that appealed in the least to an imagination all ready to be
fired. Yet it was joy to be out for Christmas shopping in the crisp air
to one who had been so little able lately to go abroad, while before
her raptured vision she saw ever a wee sock hung by the nursery
hearth, and a tiny lighted tree. Many little children were to be made
happy this holy-tide because her child had come to her—Violet’s
thank-offering had flowed by many streams to reach unseen baby
hands. As she went along now she stopped to slip coins into the
palms of longing boys and girls looking in at Christmas-decked
windows.
“Oh, Violet!”
It was Mrs. Tom who clutched her. “Isn’t it dreadful—the rush! I’m
nearly dragged to pieces. I’ve just bought an inkstand for father, in
the shape of a peach, with a thermometer on it—the kind of thing
no one ever uses, but I was desperate. I’ve a big woolly sheep for
your baby, but if you think he’s too little for it——”
“Oh, no!” cried Violet, her face rosy with pleasure. “How dear of
you!” She could have embraced Mrs. Tom before crossing over to the
toy store, a ravishing spot, one window of which was given up to
regiments and regiments of lead soldiers afoot and on horseback, on
a green plain dotted with little round white tents. The other window
was filled with dolls sitting at tea-tables, swinging, or lying in pink or
blue-and-white beds like the baby’s at home. When Violet was a little
girl she had always been taken through this shop at Christmas time;
it was one of the delights of the season, but never had it seemed so
delightful as now, when she was buying toys for a “first” Christmas,
while music-boxes played, and animals squeaked, and rattling,
whirring mechanical toys ran riot.
She stopped at last by a counter laden with glittering tree
ornaments. Opposite were shelves filled with stationary engines
varied with an occasional boat or locomotive. There seemed to be no
clerk there, but a small boy, seven or eight years of age, with a
white sailor cap pushed back to make a halo around his short golden
curls, was walking backward and forward, regarding the display with
rapt, angelic eyes, and incidentally putting out the tip of his chubby
forefinger to touch a cylinder or an electric battery. Looking up
suddenly he caught Violet’s eye; they both smiled, and she came
over to him. So might her own little boy look some day.
“Do you like engines?”
“Yes,” said the boy with a deep, indrawn breath. He forestalled
criticism: “I’m not too little to have one; my papa says so! He’ll run it
for me. He’s down-stairs now.” He pointed to the shelf. “Do you see
this one? That’s where you pour the alcohol in—and this is the steam
gauge—and here’s the safety-valve. She’s a hummer! And this ’lectric
—that’s a hummer, too!”
“Oh,” said Violet. She sought for more definite accomplishment.
“What do they do?”
“They go!” answered the little boy. “And they set other things
going, too, if you want ’em.” He indicated an array near by:
fountains, a man sawing wood, a printing press, and the like. “You
’tach ’em by a thread. See that one up there?” He pointed to a large
cylinder of grey burnished steel. His tone fell to one of reverence. “It
pumps water!”
“Goodness!” exclaimed Violet with delightful appreciation. “I’m so
glad to talk to you because I have a little boy myself, but he isn’t as
big as you—he’s only six weeks old.”
“Gee!” said the little boy with his angelic smile. “I never knew any
one as little as that.” He stopped disapprovingly. “Why, that’s only a
baby!”
“Ah, that’s what people call him,” said Violet, sagely; “they think
he can’t even talk. Of course he doesn’t really say anything, but we
have long conversations together—I always know what he means.”
The little boy nodded. “My mamma and I talk that way too,” he
said simply.
“Then there’s another one—I wish you’d tell me what to buy for
him—he’s about seventy or eighty years older.”
“But that’s an old man!” cried the boy in wonder.
Violet shook her head. “Oh, no! Of course, that’s what people call
him,” she explained again, tolerantly; “but we know better.”
The boy looked at her debatingly. “Is it ‘Once Upon a Time,’ or is it
‘A True Story’?” he asked.
“It’s both,” said Violet.
 Their eyes met this time in the joyousness of mutual
understanding.
“I like you, I like you,” cried the little boy, and tucked his hand into
hers, jumping along with both feet in short flying leaps. “Come here!
I’ll show you what to buy for him, I’ll show you; that! Oh, there’s my
papa beckoning to me!”
He dropped her hand and disappeared like a flash in the crowd by
the stairs.
“Well,” said Violet to herself, staring in front of her. “Well—why
not?”
“I couldn’t get here a minute sooner—I had to lie down after I got
them all out of the house.”
Mrs. Tom, arriving late at the paternal mansion on Christmas
afternoon, was taking off her wraps in the hall as she looked in at
the circle of sisters-in-law sitting around the fire in the drawing-
room, warm with the smell of cedar, and bedecked with scarlet holly.
Through the open doorway beyond the mahogany table, set with the
old white-and-gold china, showed promise of good things to come.
“How cozy you all look in here—but where are the others?” asked
Mrs. Tom.
Miss Clara spread out her hands with a gesture of dismay, belied
by her beaming face.
“Well, you’ll never guess—every man and boy is up-stairs with
father, trying to run that crazy engine Violet sent him; it’s one of
those dreadful electrical things. If I’d had the remotest idea what
was in the box—and she never even told Arthur! You can’t get one
of them out of that room, except to—— Listen to that!”
A boy’s footsteps came hurtling down the back stairs, and a
moment later an excited voice called:
“Will it work?”
“No,” came from above.
 “Oh, I see what’s the matter. Will it work now?”
“No.”
“Wait a moment till I come up.”
“They’ve been doing that for two mortal hours,” said Mrs. Malcolm
placidly. “They have miles of wire trying to attach something—don’t
ask me what, for I haven’t the faintest idea. Of course it won’t work;
engines never do; if they did all the occupation would be gone. My
husband is just as bad as the rest. They all have engines at home,
but they say Violet’s beats the lot. Just hear that child laugh; she’s
been up there all the afternoon. We’ve been having the most
beautifully restful time down here by ourselves. I haven’t seen father
look so happy in months, and in all that clatter! Did you hear that
Kate is coming back?”
“Will you listen to that!” said Mrs. Walter.
The inevitable footsteps were clattering again madly down-stairs,
with the accompanying voice:
“Will it work?”
“No.”
“Oh, I guess I see what’s the matter with it this time. Will it work
now?”
“No.”
“Wait till I come up!”
The end of a holiday is the dearest part of a happy one, when the
jewels are counted over, to be strung on the silver thread of
memory. The lights were turned down low in the nursery, so that the
flames of the fire of aromatic pine were reflected rosily from the
white surface of the enamelled furniture, as Violet sat there in her
loose blue gown, her reddish hair half curling over her shoulders,
rocking her little son with his head pressed against her white bosom.
After all the merry Christmas Day, after all the clatter, and jollity, and
family chatter, the supper, the plum pudding, and the lighted
candles, and the children’s carols of the Child Divine, she was back
here once more with her little, little son—the life that was
mysteriously her life too. Ah, not because of the feasting and the
presents, nor the merry companionship, not all because of the
inspiring engine even, had the day been Christmas indeed to an old
man and those who felt the sweetness, unknowing. Through Violet’s
happiness had come the Angel Note.
The drum hung upon the wall, and set out on the blue rug was a
small farmyard of animals, with the large white woolly sheep and a
brown tin cow on wheels, towering above them. On the table stood
a tiny Christmas tree, decked with a red, a blue and a yellow candle,
a little horse, a little horn, a candy hen and a glittering star, and on
the mantel was a paper angel in white and tinsel with dovelike wings
and floating hair.
Violet’s husband coming through the room put his hand tenderly
on her hair as he passed.
“Little mother!” he said.
She leaned her head back against his hand, her eyes mutely
acknowledging his caress, before she withdrew once more into that
holy place where she lived to-night with the child, and where even
the man she loved could not follow her.
 The Name of The Firm

The Name of The Firm

“So you’ve lost your place,” said his mother.
She looked with tender thoughtful eyes at the lad before her, and
smoothed his fair hair with a hand that had to reach up to touch it,
for she was a little woman.
“Yes,” said the boy, with a lip that he could not keep from
quivering a little. “Somehow I didn’t expect it. Of course, I know lots
of the fellows have been turned off lately; times are dull just now,
and the firm always cut down the force when they can. It’s easy
enough to take on new men when they want them, and those who
have been there longest have first right to stay. I know that. But
somehow I had thought that father’s work with them——”
“Yes,” said his mother. She sat down in a low chair, and with a
gesture drew the boy to her side. “You say you had not expected to
be turned away, Francis. Neither had I thought of it! There were
reasons—— Your father thought that your future was assured, at
least, if only—only as an atonement to him. The firm did not promise
me to take care of you, to be sure, but it was understood. They sent
at once, you know, and offered you the position. It was only right
that you should begin at the bottom of the ladder.”
“The bottom of the ladder is about under ground there,” said the
boy with a whimsical shake of his head. “It’s pretty low down, I can
tell you! Why there are firms not a quarter so rich as they who pay
their boys more—enough for car-fare and shoes and lunch, anyway
—of course, though that’s one of the ways they get rich. I’m not
complaining. But I thought to-day if father were the head of the
business, and I had been one of Mr. Nelson’s boys——”
“Your father loved Mr. Nelson,” said the mother, after a silence
during which the two had sat with clasped hands. “And Mr. White
too,” she added.
“And didn’t they love him?”
“Yes, once—before they began to make so much money, and after
it,—perhaps—sometimes! I don’t know. Mr. Nelson was moved when
he came to see me that first time; he meant to be kind about you.
To your father he was always the friend he had loved even when he
was cut to the heart with John Nelson’s altered ways. There are
some people who are born constant.”
“But don’t you mind,” said the boy, a little wistfully, “that I am
thrown out of the place? I walked around the town two hours this
morning before I could make up my mind to come and tell you,
though I knew it Friday. I was afraid it would be too great a shock to
you; and yet you don’t seem to think anything of it at all.”
“You will be taken back with a larger salary,” said his mother
quietly. “You need not look so startled, Francis. I know Nelson and
White—what they used to be, and what they are now; I know them
thoroughly. If there were any other way—— Dear, there are some
things that I cannot tell you, but your father’s son shall not be
turned from his old firm while I live. They must respect the honour
of their name. No, don’t tell me not to go to them! I’ll not shame
you. I am not going to beg them to take you back again, I have the
right to demand it. Trust me, Francis!”
“I do, mother,” said the boy, but half doubtfully, as he stooped and
kissed the face raised to his.
It was a pretty face, with a broad low forehead and clear grey
eyes, dark now with a purpose that he could not understand. He felt
uncomfortable without knowing why, as he met their gaze. There
was something in them that was not like mother.
 She looked a small enough figure going down the street in her
plain black garments and little black bonnet—a small figure to hold
the fate of a big business house in that white envelope in her hands.
For two years past she had felt that it would come to this some day.
The thrill of definite fulfilment tingled now in every tense nerve. The
father’s fate should not be his son’s too.
She remembered her husband’s bright faith in the friends of his
youth, when they were first married; how he had worked for them
with all the powers of body and mind, the manager who ran the
business machinery of the house and whose honesty was like the
sun, radiating his every act, and whose justice was tempered with
mercy. Heaven only knew—and heaven did know—how many boys
he had saved from temptation by the kind word in season, how
many men he had heartened by his prompt recognition of work well
done. He was a man who gave of himself, unvaryingly, to those with
whom he came in daily contact, and was a greater factor in the
prosperity of the great house than the members of the firm. She
remembered how proud he had been of their commercial honesty,
and how he had kept his faith in their own personal friendship for
him even after the benumbing influences of trade and the exigencies
of prosperity had kept them really aloof from each other for months
and years. When there was a child born, or a death in the family, the
business mask dropped for a few minutes perhaps, to show the old
time faces underneath, and the manager loved them, and talked
about them long afterwards to his wife. Some day, when John
Nelson and Harry White had time——
Then the policy of the house changed. The manager’s salary was
cut down; he was no longer called into the confidences of the firm.
His wife remembered with hot cheeks and clenched hands how that
had hurt him. It was the thought that they could have done it; he
would have lived on a pittance willingly if they had needed money.
But he defended them, of course; it was his way. He was a very
proud man, so proud that his friends’ honour was as his very own;
who doubted it, insulted him.
 And then—ah, that was hardest! to know that what you love is
rotten at the core. That man had no business to tell her husband,
but every one in the house told George more even of their own
private affairs than he cared to hear. Nothing that went on, for or
against their prospects, for or against the good of the business, nay,
for or against himself, but was brought to his knowledge for comfort,
advice, or denial. He had always borne his full freight of other
people’s troubles.
But this thing—— His wife knew how the burden of it had brought
the beginning of his illness. It struck at the life of the firm; they had
survived, but the blow had killed him. They had used his honesty to
cheat with, and had offered him as the sacrifice when they were on
the point of detection. Johnson, who partly in horror, partly in
protesting doubt, had shown him, with trembling adjurations to utter
secrecy, the incriminating paper, did not know that George held the
other half of the clue. To have used it in his own defense was to
betray one who trusted him, and defile the fair name of the firm.
His widow clasped the envelope tighter in her hands. She had
been to her husband the priestess of his heart’s inmost confessional;
he had given her a sacred confidence.
But her whole soul rose in rebellion to the thought that her boy
was to be sacrificed as her husband had been, with no hand
upraised to help him. Her hand was small, but it held a mighty truth
in it! All the sense of wrong, and yearning heart-break of years,
surged within, to bring with them a fierce avenging joy. Her promise
to her husband? He had not known to what it would bind her; she
felt herself fully absolved. Nelson and White, Nelson and White, their
day of reprisal had come at last. The powerful fetich of their name
would crumble into dust, when she struck it!
The dingy brick building with its gaping doorway gave her a shock
as she came suddenly upon it. She had not seen it for over two
years. That was the doorway under which George used to pass, the
steep, worn, wooden staircase, that up which he was wont to climb
daily. She had sometimes stopped here for him on her way home.
She held her breath with a sickness of heart as she traversed the
familiar ways again, looking perforce in at the windowed door behind
which his desk used to stand. She was to climb higher to-day, to the
sacred rooms of the Firm, the mighty power that had brought into
being those rows and rows of clerks at the desks below.
She took her seat on a wooden settle outside the door of the
office, which, open at the top, was screened off with ground glass in
one corner of the long room, and waited her turn for an audience.
She hardly saw the inquiring glances given her from time to time by
the clerks; she was full of an intensity of purpose that cut through
conventions like a knife. But presently the conversation carried on by
the rising voices of men within the office forced itself upon her
consciousness unpleasantly.
“Mein Gott! then I lose twenty t’ousand dollar! Consider what that
means to me, shentlemen. At this time, at this time, it is ruin!”
“You should have looked out for that before, Hartmann,” answered
a cold voice, that the listener recognized as Nelson’s. “We gave you
opportunity to examine the goods—you cannot say we did not. If
your man was a fool it’s not our fault. We gave you opportunity.”
“Oh, oppo-chunity,” moaned Hartmann. “Mein Gott, what oppo-
chu-nity! And the whole cargo rotten! Consider, shentlemen, that it is
ruin.”
White’s high shrill tones broke in with an imprecation, “Consider—
as you’re so fond of the word—that you tried to cheat us, and got
caught; consider that you tried to cut our throat, and we’ve cut
yours. You might have known you hadn’t a ghost of a chance with
us. We know you’re ruined, and we don’t care. Understand that. We
don’t care. Any one who thinks he can work that game on us gets
left. You’ve got the rotten cargo, and we’ve got your twenty
thousand dollars, and we’re going to keep it. If I were you I wouldn’t
talk too much about the story, you don’t show up any too well in it.”
“But my wife, my shildrens,” moaned the man.
 “See here, Hartmann,” said Nelson, with dignity, “this is business.
Either you talk business, or get out of here. On second thoughts you
get out of here anyway. We’ve had enough of you for one day. You
think so, too, White? Shall I get somebody to put you out,
Hartmann? No? Then go!”
He held the office door open, with a compelling gesture of his free
hand and a little man, bowed together, weeping and mumbling by
turns, came stumbling out as if blinded. As he did so, a boy with
papers slipped into the office, and behind him came a tall, pale clerk,
with shabby clothes, and a gentle, anxious face.
“Ah, Cramer,” said Nelson, half looking up from the papers as he
scanned them quickly in turn before affixing his signature. “What
can I do for you to-day?”
“I was told that you wanted to speak to me, sir,” said Cramer.
“Mr. White, I believe, takes your department in hand. White!”
“The fact is,” said White, “we shall not need you after the first of
the month, Mr. Cramer. You asked for an increase of salary.”
“I cannot live on what I get now,” said Cramer. “I have others to
support.”
“Exactly. We are sorry, but you must understand that we cannot
run a charitable institution. This is strictly business. On inquiry, we
find that other men in similar positions are willing to live on less than
you are getting now, and it is our principle to reduce our expenses
whenever we can. You must know that.”
The listener inferred that Cramer bowed. “My services have been
satisfactory, irrespective of salary?” he asked.
“Oh, certainly. We shall be glad to recommend you. That is all at
present, Mr. Cramer.”
He had gone. Mrs. Stannard sitting out there felt a strange
discomposure—pity, and a helpless revolt against this iron system of
injustice: an injustice that hurt her idea of the promoters of it more
than those under them—they had been her husband’s friends.
“There’s a lady waiting outside,” said the boy, who was going out
with the papers. She rose perforce.
“Mrs. Stannard! Nelson, here is Mrs. Stannard.” White handed out
a chair from a dark corner, and Nelson came forward cordially. Both
men looked worn and tired, Nelson tall and thin and dark, with
deeply-lined face; White, short and slight and fair. Both gave an
effect of trying to brush off an habitual and haunting care, to
welcome this unexpected visitor. She had known them since her
girlhood; Nelson used to write poetry, and White had even been in
love with her sister once. He was such a tender-hearted fellow then,
he couldn’t bear to have the least of God’s creatures suffer pain. She
answered mechanically the usual inquiries as to her health, while
she was thinking of these things.
“We are glad you happened to come in, Mrs. Stannard,” said
Nelson. “We have just found that there was a little money due your
husband still on that last patent. Write out a check for fifty-six
dollars, if you please, White, for Mrs. Stannard. There, that’s right, I
think. There is so much that’s disagreeable in the business that
we’re glad to have something pleasant to communicate occasionally.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Stannard. She added after a moment, “Thank
you.” She was looking at the appurtenances of the little office, and
at the two men in it. This was where George used to stand when he
came here to talk to them, in this dusty cramped space, the high
office desks half shutting out the light. What had been his feelings?
How he had loved them, Nelson and White—Nelson and White who
had killed him!
Something hard in her eyes seemed to strike White.
“We are sorry that we had to dismiss Francis,” he said
apologetically. “It is always hard to have to make changes of that
kind, but we depend entirely on Mr. Ulmer’s arrangements in that
department. As I understand, it was a choice between him and
Griggs, and Griggs had the better handwriting. Francis should
improve. It is simply a matter of business.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Stannard again. She sat there, a small,
unpretending figure in her black gown, very fair and young looking
in the dingy office surroundings. She was twisting the white
envelope in her fingers, the weapon that George had unwittingly left
her that she was to wield in behalf of his son—if she wanted to.
“We have missed George a great deal in these last two years,” said
Nelson with a change of tone, and an obvious effort of recollection.
“Nobody had the interest in the firm that he had, Mrs. Stannard. His
only fault was that he was not quite up to date in matters of
management; he was a splendid organizer, but he let his feelings run
away with him too much. This recognizing individual ability is all very
well in its way, but if you are going in to make money the interests
of the house must come first. George never could drive a really
sharp bargain—I don’t mind saying it, Mrs. Stannard, for he owned it
himself—and it was a credit to his heart, of course—he could not
keep up to date in that way. The modern methods of business
require tremendous concentration of purpose. White and I”—he
glanced at White, who stood near him, gazing seriously at the visitor
—“have been quite worn out with our efforts lately, but we have
been very successful. Of three firms who were in competition with us
at the beginning of the year, two have broken up and had to give in
to our terms already, and the third will before long. It’s a pretty fair
record. George’s only fault—and that was a credit to his heart—was
that he was not good at such transactions, he let his feelings run
away with him.”
“Yes, that was his only fault,” said White.
Oh, if they only would not speak of George! She suddenly felt that
it was the one thing she could not bear.
“How is your wife, Mr. Nelson?” she asked hurriedly.
“My wife? She was well when I last heard from her. She and the
children have been in Dresden—she is there for their education, you
know—expects to be gone three years.”
“It must be very lonely for you. Why don’t you go over, too?” she
hazarded.
“Work, work! That’s what keeps me here. I give you my word,
Mrs. Stannard, the business is so immense now, the operations of
the house so large, that I can hardly take even a day off. Here’s
White trying to get away to his sick boy up in Minnesota for a couple
of weeks, and yet we can’t see how to manage it, just at this time,
without losing the firm a deal that will give us enormous profit.”
“Is your boy ill?” asked Mrs. Stannard, turning sympathetically to
White. His only child was the age of her Francis.
White nodded, with his boyish face suddenly turned grey and
haggard, like that of an old, old man.
“He—he’s crippled,” he answered. “He had a bad fall. Didn’t you
hear? Hurt himself racing. The doctors give us some hope, there’s no
immediate danger, but his strength seems to be going. That’s the
main point, you know—strength. I’ve thought if I could get up to
Minnesota just now, to help his mother—— But I can’t seem to make
it out Of course, business comes first.”
“God help you, Harry!” said Mrs. Stannard, softly. She had risen
and he stretched out his hand and took hers in it, and held it for a
moment in a tight grip, with his head turned away.
“You were always good, Clara,” he said huskily. “I hope He will.”
“You have dropped your letter,” said Nelson, coming forward. “Or
perhaps you do not want it?”
“Thank you,” said Mrs. Stannard. “No, I do not want it now.” Send
Francis here, where if he would be successful he must learn to fight
against every impulse of his higher nature? What would his father
have said? She tore the paper into small pieces with fingers that
were firmly tense. “May I put these in your scrap basket? I know
that I have taken up too much of your time, Mr. Nelson, I will say
good-bye.”
 “I am glad to have seen you, Mrs. Stannard,” he said. He looked at
his partner, who stood, turned from them, his arms resting on the
tall desk, and his head buried in them, and then looked back again
at her. She made a movement of comprehension, and slipped quietly
out of the door, and pulling her veil quickly over her face, went down
the long stairs again that her husband had been wont to traverse,
feeling that the dear form was somehow at her side. But she saw
nothing, for her eyes were blinded by tears, not for White’s sorrow,
not for her husband’s death, but for another and irremediable loss;
tears that overflowed and ran down her cheeks, and seemed to keep
welling up exhaustlessly from her heart; tears from a pity so deep
that it had its source in every happiness of high thought and noble
aim and unselfish love that had made her life.
No need to break her faith with the dead! She would not have her
boy back in that house of corruption, for all the gifts of Fortune. No
need, no need, for her to strike at the name of the firm! That name,
so loved, so honoured, slaved for, died for—God in heaven, for what
did the Name of the Firm stand?
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE STORIES OF
MARRIED LIFE ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S.

copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in
these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it
in the United States without permission and without paying
copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of
Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything
for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is
very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as
creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research.
Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given
away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with
eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject
to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
 PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free

distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or
any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and

Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree
to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be
bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund
from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in
paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be

used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people
who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a
few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic
works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.
See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with
Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the
collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the
individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the
United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law
in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do
not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing,
performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the
work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of
course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™
mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely
sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated
with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this
agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached
full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge
with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also
govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most
countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the
United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the
terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying,
performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this
work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes
no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in
any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other

immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must
appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™
work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears,
or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is
accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

ebookultra.com