ing to interrupt, and after a moment's pause she
began again, speaking in a still, level tone, with hardly any variety of
expression.

"I am an orphan like you, Evelyn. Both my parents died before I was
fourteen, and I was sent over to America to live with a grandmother
aunt. I was an heiress, unfortunately--you know my views about
riches!--and by my father's will I came into my money at eighteen. My
aunt was a wise woman, and even to her intimate friends she never gave a
hint of my fortune. She was a wealthy woman herself, and had no
daughter, only one son, so it seemed natural that she should give me a
good time, dress me prettily, and take me about. She had a horror of
fortune-hunters, and wanted me to be loved for myself, and be as happily
married as she had been before me. When I came out she brought me over
to London for a season, and I was presented; but that was my one and
only visit to England in fifteen years. I was glad to go back to New
York, for my real friends were there. We had grown up together, and had
the associations of years. In England I had only acquaintances. Well!
So it went on, the happiest of lives, till I was twenty-four. Several
men wanted to marry me, but I never met anyone whom it was possible to
think of as a husband until--"

"Your husband?"

"Yes. We were away for the summer--a whole party of us--camping in the
most delicious spot. I wish you could join an American camping party
some time, Evelyn. It's just the happiest, freest, most ideal of lives!
He came down as the guest of some other people. The daughter was one
of my own friends. I thought at first that she cared for him herself,
but he never paid her any attention--not the slightest; rather avoided
her indeed, even before--"

"He cared for you. Did it begin--_soon_--Charmion?"

"I cared for him the first moment we met. I was sitting at a long
tea-table set out in the open, and my friend brought him up to a seat
right opposite to mine. She said, `Charmion, this is Phil--Phil, this
is Charmion!' It was one of the rules of the camp that we called each
other by our Christian names. The life was so informal that `Mr' and
`Miss' seemed out of place. I looked up and met his eyes, and--it was
different from anything I had felt before.

"He came for a week, but he stayed on and on until it was nearly a
month. I can't talk about it, Evelyn. Such times can never last. Even
at the best it is impossible that the