f Mexico, and if his mission was
successful he was to be kept there and in South America several years,
watching the new railroad enterprises and the development of mechanical
agriculture and whatever other undertakings offered an opening for the
introduction of the paint. They were all young men together, and
Corey, who had put his money into the company, had a proprietary
interest in the success which they were eager to achieve.

"There's no more reason now and no less than ever there was," mused
Penelope, in counsel with her mother, "why I should say Yes, or why I
should say No. Everything else changes, but this is just where it was a
year ago. It don't go backward, and it don't go forward. Mother, I
believe I shall take the bit in my teeth--if anybody will put it there!"

"It isn't the same as it was," suggested her mother. "You can see that
Irene's all over it."

"That's no credit to me," said Penelope. "I ought to be just as much
ashamed as ever."

"You no need ever to be ashamed."

"That's true, too," said the girl. "And I can sneak off to Mexico with
a good conscience if I could make up my mind to it." She laughed.
"Well, if I could be SENTENCED to be married, or somebody would up and
forbid the banns! I don't know what to do about it."

Her mother left her to carry her hesitation back to Corey, and she said
now, they had better go all over it and try to reason it out. "And I
hope that whatever I do, it won't be for my own sake, but for--others!"

Corey said he was sure of that, and looked at her with eyes of patient
tenderness.

"I don't say it is wrong," she proceeded, rather aimlessly, "but I
can't make it seem right. I don't know whether I can make you
understand, but the idea of being happy, when everybody else is so
miserable, is more than I can endure. It makes me wretched."

"Then perhaps that's your share of the common suffering," suggested
Corey, smiling.

"Oh, you know it isn't! You know it's nothing. Oh! One of the reasons
is what I told you once before, that as long as father is in trouble I
can't let you think of me. Now that he's lost everything--?" She bent
her eyes inquiringly upon him, as if for the effect of this argument.

"I don't think that's a very good reason," he answered seriously, but
smiling still. "Do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?"

"Why, I suppose I must," she said, dropping her eyes.

"Then why shouldn't I think all the more of you on a