eption that the domestic letters of
Mrs. Mulrady and Mamie were no longer a subject of comment, and their
bills no longer passed through his private secretary's hands.

Three months passed; the rainy season had ceased, the hillsides around
Mulrady's shaft were bridal-like with flowers; indeed, there were
rumors of an approaching fashionable marriage in the air, and vague
hints in the "Record" that the presence of a distinguished capitalist
might soon be required abroad. The face of that distinguished man did
not, however, reflect the gayety of nature nor the anticipation of
happiness; on the contrary, for the past few weeks, he had appeared
disturbed and anxious, and that rude tranquillity which had
characterized him was wanting. People shook their heads; a few
suggested speculations; all agreed on extravagance.

One morning, after office hours, Slinn, who had been watching the
careworn face of his employer, suddenly rose and limped to his side.

"We promised each other," he said, in a voice trembling with emotion;
"never to allude to our talk of Christmas Eve again unless we had other
proofs of what I told you then. We have none; I don't believe we'll
ever have any more. I don't care if we ever do, and I break that
promise now because I cannot bear to see you unhappy and know that this
is the cause."

Mulrady made a motion of deprecation, but the old man continued--

"You are unhappy, Alvin Mulrady. You are unhappy because you want to
give your daughter a dowry of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,
and you will not use the fortune that you think may be mine."

"Who's been talking about a dowry?" asked Mulrady, with an angry flush.

"Don Caesar Alvarado told my daughter."

"Then that is why he has thrown off on me since he returned," said
Mulrady, with sudden small malevolence, "just that he might unload his
gossip because Mamie wouldn't have him. The old woman was right in
warnin' me agin him."

The outburst was so unlike him, and so dwarfed his large though common
nature with its littleness, that it was easy to detect its feminine
origin, although it filled Slinn with vague alarm.

"Never mind him," said the old man, hastily; "what I wanted to say now
is that I abandon everything to you and yours. There are no proofs;
there never will be any more than what we know, than what we have
tested and found wanting. I swear to you that, except to show you that
I have not lied and am not crazy, I would