l have
paid! It may be"--tears flooded her eyes, and she came back to her chair
and laid her head on her arm--"it may be that I can't bear it, and that
I will die!" sobbed Julia. "But I shall always be glad that I told you
this to-night!" There was a long silence, and then again Jim came to
kneel beside her, and put one arm about her.

"My own little girl!" said he. At his voice Julia raised her head, and
put her arms about his neck like a weary child, and rested her wet face
against his own.

"My own brave girl!" Jim said. "I know what courage it took to have you
tell me this! It will never be known to any one else, sweetheart, and we
will bury it in our hearts forever. Kiss me, dearest, and promise me
that my little wife will stop crying!"

For a moment it was as if she tried to push him away.

"Jim," she whispered, tears running down her face, "have you
thought--are you _sure_?"

"Quite sure, sweetheart," he said soothingly and tenderly. "Why, Julie,
wouldn't you forgive me anything I might have done when I was only an
ignorant little boy?"

Julia tightened her arms about him, and sobbed desperately for a long
while. Then her breathing quieted, and she let Jim dry her eyes with his
own handkerchief, and listened, with an occasional long sigh, to his
eager, confident plans. They were still talking quietly when the street
door was flung open and Miss Toland came in, on a rush of fresh air.

"Rain!" said Miss Toland. "Terrible night! Not an umbrella in the Parker
house until Clem came home--it's quarter to ten!"

"Congratulate us, Aunt Sanna," said Jim, rising to his feet with his arm
still about Julia. "Julia has promised to marry me!"

End of Part One

PART II

CHAPTER I

Yet Dr. James Studdiford, walking down to his club, an hour later, with
the memory of his aunt's joyous congratulations ringing in his ears, and
of Julia's last warm little kiss upon his cheek, was perhaps more
miserable than he had been before in the course of his life. Julia was
his girl--his own girl--and the thrill of her submission, the enchanting
realization that she loved him, rose over and over again in his heart,
like the rising of deep waters--only to wash against the firm barrier
of that hideous Fact.

Jim could do nothing with the Fact. It did not seem to belong to him, or
to Julia, to their love and future together, or to her gallant,
all-enduring past. Julia was Julia--that was the only significant thing,
t