rriage postponed because both were
poor, and the lover struggling into his profession, and then, it seemed
sudden and unaccountable, his marriage with some one else. "It was not
like him," said the governess in conclusion; "it was his ambition to get
on that blinded him."

"And he, was he happy?" asked Evelyn.

"I heard that he was not" (and she spoke reluctantly); "I fear not. How
could he be?" And the governess seemed overwhelmed in a flood of tender
and painful memories. "That was over twenty years ago. And I have been
happy, my darling, I have had such a happy life with you.

"I never dreamed I could have such a blessing. And you, child, will be
happy too; I know it."

And the two women, locked in each other's arms, found that consolation
in sympathy which steals away half the grief of the world. Ah! who knows
a woman's heart?

For Philip there was in these days no such consolation. It was a
man's way not to seek any, to roll himself up in his trouble like a
hibernating bear. And yet there were times when he had an intolerable
longing for a confidant, for some one to whom he could relieve himself
of part of his burden by talking. To Celia he could say nothing.
Instinct told him that he should not go to her. Of the sympathy of Alice
he was sure, but why inflict his selfish grief on her tender heart?
But he was writing to her often, he was talking to her freely about
his perplexities, about leaving the office and trusting himself to the
pursuit of literature in some way. And, in answer to direct questions,
he told her that he had seen Evelyn only a few times, and, the fact
was, that Mrs. Mavick had cut him dead. He could not give to his
correspondent a very humorous turn to this situation, for Alice
knew--had she not seen them often together, and did she not know the
depths of Philip's passion? And she read between the lines the real
state of the case. Alice was indignant, but she did not think it wise to
make too much of the incident. Of Evelyn she wrote affectionately--she
knew she was a noble and high-minded girl. As to her mother, she
dismissed her with a country estimate. "You know, Phil, that I never
thought she was a lady."

But the lover was not to be wholly without comfort. He met by chance one
day on the Avenue Miss McDonald, and her greeting was so cordial that he
knew that he had at least one friend in the house of Mavick.

It was a warm spring day, a stray day sent in advance, as it were, to
wa