that would make of wealth? In justice to him, in justice to the
myself of the future, I cannot place such temptations in his way."

Mr. Bomford was staggered.

"I find it hard to follow you," he admitted. "You will not accept my
offer because you are afraid that when the effect of these beans has
worn off, you will misuse the wealth which will come to you--is that
it?"

"That is the entire truth," Burton confessed.

"Have you asked yourself," Mr. Bomford demanded, impressively, "whether
you have a right to treat your other self in this fashion? Your other
self will assuredly resent it, if you retain your memory. Your other
self would hate your present self for its short-sighted, quixotic folly.
I tell you frankly that you have not the right to treat your coming
self in this way. Consider! Wealth does not inevitably vulgarize. On
the contrary, it takes you away from the necessity of associating with
people calculated to depress and cramp your life. There are many points
of view which I am sure you have not adequately considered. Take the
case of our friend Professor Cowper, for instance. He is a poor man
with a scientific hobby in which he is burning to indulge. Why deprive
him of the opportunity? There is his daughter--"

"I will reconsider the matter," Burton interrupted, hastily. "I cannot
say more than that."

Mr. Bomford signified his satisfaction.

"I am convinced," he said, "that you will come around to our way of
thinking. I proceed now to the second reason of my visit to you this
afternoon. Professor Cowper and his daughter are doing me the honor to
dine with me to-night at the Milan. I beg that you will join us."

Burton sat for some time without reply. For a moment the strong wave of
humanity which swept up from his heart and set his pulses leaping, set
the music beating in the air, terrified him. Surely this could mean but
one thing! He waited almost in agony for the thoughts which might fill
his brain.

"Miss Cowper," Mr. Bomford continued, "has been much upset since your
hasty departure from Leagate. She is conscious of some mistake--some
foolish speech."

Burton drew a little sigh of relief. After all, what he had feared was
not coming. He saw the flaw, he felt even now the revulsion of feeling
with which her words had inspired him. Yet the other things remained.
She was still wonderful. It was still she who was the presiding genius
of that sentimental garden.

"You are very kind," he murmur