fumed cheques. The end of every month brought
a cheque from Henrietta Brown, and for a few moments the clerk was
transported and lived beyond himself.

An idea had fixed itself in his mind. He knew not if Henrietta Brown
was young or old, pretty or ugly, married or single; the perfume and
the name were sufficient, and could no longer be separated from the
idea, now forcing its way through the fissures in the failing brain of
this poor little bachelor clerk--that idea of light and love and grace
so inherent in man, but which rigorous circumstance had compelled
Dempsey to banish from his life.

Dempsey had had a mother to support for many years, and had found it
impossible to economise. But since her death he had laid by about one
hundred and fifty pounds. He thought of this money with awe, and awed
by his good fortune he wondered how much more he might save before he
was forced to leave his employment; and to have touched a penny of his
savings would have seemed to him a sin near to sacrilege. Yet he did
not hesitate for a single moment to send Henrietta Brown, whose address
he had been able to obtain through the bank books, a diamond brooch
which had cost twenty pounds. He omitted to say whence it had come, and
for days he lived in a warm wonderment, satisfied in the thought that
she was wearing something that he had seen and touched.

His ideal was now by him and always, and its dominion was so complete
that he neglected his duties at the bank, and was censured by the
amazed manager. The change of his condition was so obvious that it
became the subject for gossip, and jokes were now beginning to pass
into serious conjecturing. Dempsey took no notice, and his plans
matured amid jokes and theories. The desire to write and reveal himself
to his beloved had become imperative; and after some very slight
hesitation--for he was moved more by instinct than by reason--he wrote
a letter urging the fatality of the circumstances that separated them,
and explaining rather than excusing this revelation of his identity.
His letter was full of deference, but at the same time it left no doubt
as to the nature of his attachments and hopes. The answer to this
letter was a polite note begging him not to persist in this
correspondence, and warning him that if he did it would become
necessary to write to the manager of the bank. But the return of his
brooch did not dissuade Dempsey from the pursuit of his ideal; and as
time went by it be