and want to see you happy."

The girl was like a slim poplar. The strong wind of Crane's clever
pleading and seeming generosity swayed her from her rigid attitude only
to spring back again, to stand straight and beautiful, true to her love
and faith in Mortimer.

"You are kind to me," she said, simply; "I wish I could repay you."

"Perhaps some day I may get a reward out of all proportion to this small
service."

She looked fair into his eyes, and on her lips hovered a weak,
plaintive, wistful smile, as though she were wishing he could accept the
inevitable and take her regard, her gratitude, her good opinion of him
and not wed himself to a chimera which would bring only weariness of
spirit in return for his goodness.

"You will be repaid some day," she answered, "for I feel that Mr.
Mortimer's name will be cleared, and you will be glad that you acted
generously."

"Well, this will give him a better chance," he said, evasively; "it's
not good to crush a man when he's down. I will see that no one connected
with the bank shows him the slightest disrespect. Of course he'll have
to go, he couldn't remain under the circumstances--he wouldn't."

The horse had jogged slowly. Allis had purposely allowed the old Bay to
take his time. Unused to such a tolerance he had scandalously abused the
privilege; once or twice he had even cast longing glances at a succulent
bunch of grass growing by the roadside, as though it were a pure waste
of opportunity to neglect the delicacy for work when he had to do with
such indifferent overseers. But now Ringwood was in sight, and there was
still the matter of the money that had been paid on her father's note to
speak of. She asked Crane where it had come from.

"You won it over Diablo in the Brooklyn Handicap," he answered, bluntly.

"You won it," she corrected him; "I refused to accept it."

"I remember that eccentricity," he replied. "I'm a busy man, and
having the money thrown back on my hands, as it was not mine, caused me
considerable inconvenience. I deposited three thousand of it against the
note to save both your father and myself needless worry. There are still
some hundreds due you, and I wish you would please tell me what I am to
do with it."

"I'd rather pay you back the three thousand now."

"I can't accept it. I have enough money of my own to worry along on."

"Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair. When father gets stronger he
must settle it."

They had turned