it is not the less true that I am not married, and
that the little darling who is playing out there with her doll is my
child. And you talk of my being your wife--knowing that!"

"The child accepts me as her second father," I said. "It would be better
and happier for us both if you had as little pride as the child."

"Pride?" she repeated. "In such a position as mine? A helpless woman,
with a mock-husband in prison for debt! Say that I have not fallen
quite so low yet as to forget what is due to you, and you will pay me
a compliment that will be nearer to the truth. Am I to marry you for my
food and shelter? Am I to marry you, because there is no lawful tie that
binds me to the father of my child? Cruelly as he has behaved, he has
still _that_ claim upon me. Bad as he is, he has not forsaken me; he
has been forced away. My only friend, is it possible that you think
me ungrateful enough to consent to be your wife? The woman (in my
situation) must be heartless indeed who could destroy your place in the
estimation of the world and the regard of your friends! The wretchedest
creature that walks the streets would shrink from treating you in that
way. Oh, what are men made of? How _can_ you--how _can_ you speak of
it!"

I yielded---and spoke of it no more. Every word she uttered only
increased my admiration of the noble creature whom I had loved, and
lost. What refuge was now left to me? But one refuge; I could still
offer to her the sacrifice of myself. Bitterly as I hated the man who
had parted us, I loved her dearly enough to be even capable of helping
him for her sake. Hopeless infatuation! I don't deny it; I don't excuse
it--hopeless infatuation!

"You have forgiven me," I said. "Let me deserve to be forgiven. It is
something to be your only friend. You must have plans for the future;
tell me unreservedly how I can help you."

"Complete the good work that you have begun," she answered, gratefully.
"Help me back to health. Make me strong enough to submit to a doctor's
estimate of my chances of living for some years yet."

"A doctor's estimate of your chances of living?" I repeated. "What do
you mean?"

"I hardly know how to tell you," she said, "without speaking again of
Mr. Van Brandt."

"Does speaking of him again mean speaking of his debts?" I asked. "Why
need you hesitate? You know that there is nothing I will not do to
relieve _your_ anxieties."

She looked at me for a moment, in silent distress.

"Oh! d