uch a good man!

Nor was Mrs. Gerhardt overlooked. Once Brander sent her a dress,
and at another time a shawl. All these benefactions were made in a
spirit of mingled charity and self-gratification, but to Mrs. Gerhardt
they glowed with but one motive. Senator Brander was good-hearted.

As for Jennie, he drew nearer to her in every possible way, so that
at last she came to see him in a light which would require
considerable analysis to make clear. This fresh, young soul, however,
had too much innocence and buoyancy to consider for a moment the
world's point of view. Since that one notable and halcyon visit upon
which he had robbed her her original shyness, and implanted a tender
kiss upon her cheek, they had lived in a different atmosphere. Jennie
was his companion now, and as he more and more unbended, and even
joyously flung aside the habiliments of his dignity, her perception of
him grew clearer. They laughed and chatted in a natural way, and he
keenly enjoyed this new entrance into the radiant world of youthful
happiness.

One thing that disturbed him, however, was the occasional thought,
which he could not repress, that he was not doing right. Other people
must soon discover that he was not confining himself strictly to
conventional relations with this washer-woman's daughter. He suspected
that the housekeeper was not without knowledge that Jennie almost
invariably lingered from a quarter to three-quarters of an hour
whenever she came for or returned his laundry. He knew that it might
come to the ears of the hotel clerks, and so, in a general way, get
about town and work serious injury, but the reflection did not cause
him to modify his conduct. Sometimes he consoled himself with the
thought that he was not doing her any actual harm, and at other times
he would argue that he could not put this one delightful tenderness
out of his life. Did he not wish honestly to do her much good?

He thought of these things occasionally, and decided that he could
not stop. The self-approval which such a resolution might bring him
was hardly worth the inevitable pain of the abnegation. He had not so
very many more years to live. Why die unsatisfied?

One evening he put his arm around her and strained her to his
breast. Another time he drew her to his knee, and told her of his life
at Washington. Always now he had a caress and a kiss for her, but it
was still in a tentative, uncertain way. He did not want to reach for
her soul