marriages."

She had known it before, but it was hard to hear the sentence embodied
in words. Emily folded her hands over the paper in her lap and the
pleasant breakfast-room darkened before her. Mr. Ffrench continued
speaking of Dick, unheard.

When the long meal was ended and her uncle withdrew to meet Bailey in
the library, Emily escaped outdoors. There was a quaint summer-house
part way down the park, an ancient white pavilion standing beside the
brook that gurgled by on its way to the Hudson, where the young girl
often passed her hours. She went there now, carrying her little
work-basket and the newspaper containing the picture of Lestrange.

"I will save it," was her thought. "Perhaps I may find better
ones--this does not show his face--but I will have this now. It may be
a long time before I see him."

But she sat with the embroidery scissors in her hand, nevertheless,
without cutting the reprint. Lestrange would return to the factory,
she never doubted, and all would continue as before, except that she
must not see him. He would understand that it was not possible for
anything else to happen, at least for many years. Perhaps, after Dick
was married--

The green and gold beauty of the morning hurt her with the memory of
that other sunny morning, when he had so easily taken from her the
task she hated and strove to bear. And he had succeeded, how he had
succeeded! Who else in the world could have so transformed Dick?
Leaning on the table, her round chin in her palm as she gazed down at
the paper in her lap, her fancy slipped back to that night on the
Long Island road, when she had first seen his serene genius for
setting all things right. How like him that elimination of Dick,
instead of a romantic and impracticable attempt to escort her himself.

A bush crackled stiffly at some one's passage; a shadow fell across
her.

"Caught!" laughed Lestrange's glad, exultant voice. "Since you look at
the portrait, how shall the original fear to present himself? See, I
can match." He held out a card burned at the corners and streaked with
dull red, "The first time I saw your writing, and found my own name
there."

Amazed, Emily sat up, and met in his glowing face all incarnate joy of
life and youth.

"Oh!" she gasped piteously.

"You are surprised that I am here? My dear, my dear, after last night
did you think I could be anywhere else?"

"The race--"

"I know that track too well to need much practise, and I