sure, quiet men, a staff to lean on, that a
woman may find once in a life-time. They are, as a usual thing, always
loving deeply and without success, but always invariably cheerful and
buoyant, genuine philosophers. They are not given much to writing
sonnets or posing; and they can stand aside with a brave heart as the
other man takes the dream out of their lives. This is not to affirm
that they do not fight stoutly to hold this dream; simply, that they
accept defeat like good soldiers. There are many heroes who have never
heard war's alarms. He knew that the whole heart of Hildegarde von
Mitter had yielded to another. But it had been thrown, as it were,
against a wall; there was this one hope, dimly burning, that some day
he might catch it on the rebound.

"Why are not all men like you?" she asked.

"The world would not be half so interesting. Some men shall be
fortunate and others shall not; everything has to balance in some way.
I am necessary to one side of the scales, as a weight." He spoke with
a levity he by no means felt.

"You are always making sport of yourself."

"Would it be wise to weep? Not at all. I laugh because I enjoy it,
just the same as I enjoy hunting or going on voyages of discovery."

"To have met _you_!" childishly.

"Don't talk like that. It always makes me less sad than furious. And
how do you know? If it had been written that you should care for me,
would any one else have mattered? No. It just is, that's all. So
we'll go on as we have done in the past, good friends. Call me when
you need me, and wherever I am I shall come."

"How pitifully weak I must seem to you!"

"You would be no happier if you wore a mask. Hildegarde, what has
happened? What power has this adventurer over you? I can not
understand. He was man enough to say that you were guiltless of any
wrong."

"He said that?" turning upon him sharply. She could forgive much.

He could not see her face, but by the tone of her voice he knew it had
brightened. "Yes. I did a freakish thing the night we arrived at the
Killigrews'. I forced him into a corner, but it did not pan out as I
hoped. So far as it touched me, it wasn't necessary, as I have told
you a thousand times. Your past is nothing to me; your future is
everything, and I want it. God knows how I want it! Well, I wished to
find out what kind of man he is, but I wasn't very successful.
Hildegarde," and he pressed his hand down hard over he