pent money like water, and he told me later that he
pledged half his fortune to cover the gambling debts."

"That was very magnanimous, when he was about to gain a million by the
sacrifice. And what did Eugen say to this--transaction?"

"He did not know of it at the time, for he returned at once to Germany,
as had been arranged before. Herbert came to the house now, daily, and
my father grew to like him, and when Herbert finally proposed to him for
my hand, I was thankful that the affair had taken the turn it had, and
my father imagined he had been paying court to me all this time. But
Eugen was not to be deceived. As soon as he heard of our betrothal, his
suspicions were aroused, and he wrung the truth from me. Since then he
has reproached himself continually, and has a hatred for Herbert,
notwithstanding my repeated assurances that I was not coerced, and have
had no cause to regret my marriage, and that I find in Herbert an
attentive, considerate husband."

Falkenried looked searchingly in her face as if he would read her inmost
thoughts.

"Are you happy?" he asked at last, slowly.

"I am contented."

"That is much in this life; we are not born to be happy. I have done you
an injustice, Ada. I thought that the glitter of court life, the
opportunity to marry a baron and an ambassador had tempted you to become
Frau von Wallmoden, but I find instead--I am sorry, Ada, that I did you
an injustice."

He extended his hand as he spoke, and in the motion there was a plea for
pardon.

"Now you know all," said Adelheid with a deep sigh, "and I beg you not
to discuss the subject with Herbert. You see for yourself he did nothing
dishonorable. I repeat to you he used no force, my love for my brother
was the only force. I could not have expected Herbert to exert himself
as he had to do in Rome--for a stranger."

"If a woman had come to me under such circumstances, I should have saved
her brother--without stipulations," Falkenried exclaimed.

"Ah, you--I would have followed you with a light heart."

These words disclosed unconsciously how hard had been the struggle
within this girl's breast. If a sacrifice had to be made, far easier to
make it to the dark, gloomy, rigid man who, notwithstanding all his
bitterness and hardness, she could trust implicitly, than to the polite
and attentive husband who had taken advantage of her inexperience and
fear.

"You'd have had a sad lot in that case, Ada," the colonel answered with