he related
all that had occurred to her and her present plan of leaving home. This
last puzzled and troubled him not a little.

Aileen in the bosom of her family, smart and well-cared for, was one
thing. Aileen out in the world dependent on him was another. He had
never imagined that she would be compelled to leave before he was
prepared to take her; and if she did now, it might stir up complications
which would be anything but pleasant to contemplate. Still he was fond
of her, very, and would do anything to make her happy. He could support
her in a very respectable way even now, if he did not eventually go to
prison, and even there he might manage to make some shift for her. It
would be so much better, though, if he could persuade her to remain at
home until he knew exactly what his fate was to be. He never doubted but
that some day, whatever happened, within a reasonable length of time, he
would be rid of all these complications and well-to-do again, in which
case, if he could get a divorce, he wanted to marry Aileen. If not, he
would take her with him anyhow, and from this point of view it might
be just as well as if she broke away from her family now. But from the
point of view of present complications--the search Butler would make--it
might be dangerous. He might even publicly charge him with abduction. He
therefore decided to persuade Aileen to stay at home, drop meetings and
communications for the time being, and even go abroad. He would be all
right until she came back and so would she--common sense ought to rule
in this case.

With all this in mind he set out to keep the appointment she suggested
in her letter, nevertheless feeling it a little dangerous to do so.

"Are you sure," he asked, after he had listened to her description of
the Calligan homestead, "that you would like it there? It sounds rather
poor to me."

"Yes, but I like them so much," replied Aileen.

"And you're sure they won't tell on you?"

"Oh, no; never, never!"

"Very well," he concluded. "You know what you're doing. I don't want
to advise you against your will. If I were you, though, I'd take your
father's advice and go away for a while. He'll get over this then, and
I'll still be here. I can write you occasionally, and you can write me."

The moment Cowperwood said this Aileen's brow clouded. Her love for him
was so great that there was something like a knife thrust in the merest
hint at an extended separation. Her Frank here and