t be granted, in which case
he would have to serve a term in the penitentiary. If he were compelled
to go to the penitentiary she would be safer--better off in the bosom of
her family. His own hands were going to be exceedingly full for the
next two months until he knew how his appeal was coming out. And after
that--well, after that he would fight on, whatever happened.

During all the time that Cowperwood had been arguing his case in this
fashion he had been thinking how he could adjust this compromise so as
to retain the affection of Aileen and not offend her sensibilities by
urging her to return. He knew that she would not agree to give up seeing
him, and he was not willing that she should. Unless he had a good and
sufficient reason, he would be playing a wretched part by telling Butler
where she was. He did not intend to do so until he saw exactly how to do
it--the way that would make it most acceptable to Aileen. He knew that
she would not long be happy where she was. Her flight was due in part to
Butler's intense opposition to himself and in part to his determination
to make her leave Philadelphia and behave; but this last was now in part
obviated. Butler, in spite of his words, was no longer a stern Nemesis.
He was a melting man--very anxious to find his daughter, very willing
to forgive her. He was whipped, literally beaten, at his own game, and
Cowperwood could see it in the old man's eyes. If he himself could talk
to Aileen personally and explain just how things were, he felt sure he
could make her see that it would be to their mutual advantage, for the
present at least, to have the matter amicably settled. The thing to do
was to make Butler wait somewhere--here, possibly--while he went and
talked to her. When she learned how things were she would probably
acquiesce.

"The best thing that I can do under the circumstances," he said, after a
time, "would be to see Aileen in two or three days, and ask her what she
wishes to do. I can explain the matter to her, and if she wants to go
back, she can. I will promise to tell her anything that you say."

"Two or three days!" exclaimed Butler, irritably. "Two or three
fiddlesticks! She must come home to-night. Her mother doesn't know she's
left the place yet. To-night is the time! I'll go and fetch her meself
to-night."

"No, that won't do," said Cowperwood. "I shall have to go myself. If you
wish to wait here I will see what can be done, and let you know."

"Very