ld face that awful
experience over again if necessary."

Life and all its plans practically resolve themselves into a question of
income finally, and no matter how well aimed Cupid's darts may be, the
almighty dollar and the ability to obtain possession of it, is of
greater weight in the scale than all the arrows the boy-god ever
carried. Even as an academy boy Manson had realized this; faintly at
first, and yet with growing force, as his attachment for Liddy
increased. With a certain pride in character he had resolved to withhold
any declaration of love until he had at least a settled occupation in
life; but when it came to going to war and parting, perhaps forever,
from the girl he loved, to longer remain silent was to control himself
beyond his strength. Now that she had shown how much his life meant to
her by an act of devotion and self-sacrifice so unusual, his ambition to
obtain a home that he could invite her to share, returned with redoubled
force. What to do, or where to turn, he did not know. He was not even
recuperated from the terrible ordeal that had so nearly cost him his
life; but for all that his ambition was spurring him onward far in
advance of his strength. One evening late that autumn, when he found
himself unexpectedly alone with Mr. Camp, he said:

"I have for some time wished to express to you my hopes and ask your
advice regarding my future plans. First, I want to ask you for Liddy,
and beyond that, what I had best turn to to obtain a livelihood. I want
Liddy, and I want a home to keep her in."

Mr. Camp looked at him a moment, while a droll smile crept into his
face, and then replied:

"I am willing you should have Liddy, of course. I wouldn't have taken
her to that hospital to try to save your life if I hadn't believed you
worthy of her; but beyond that I don't think I have much to say in the
matter anyway. I couldn't keep you apart if I would, and I wouldn't if
I could." And then he added a little more seriously: "She is all I have
left in my life, and whatever plans you two make, I hope you will
consider that."

Manson was silent. The perfect confidence and simple pathos of Mr.
Camp's statement came to him forcibly, and made him realize how much he
was asking. He meditated a few moments, and then said:

"I feel that I am asking for more than I deserve, and that I owe you far
more than I can ever repay, but believe me, I shall do all in my power."

"We won't worry about that now," repl