yself as belonging to her own respectable middle class of
life. You are too old a friend to suspect me of vanity if I tell you
that she had no objection to me, and no suspicion that I had approached
her (personally speaking) under a disguise."

"What motive could she possibly have had for refusing you?" Dick asked.

"A motive associated with her dead husband," Beaucourt answered. "He
had married her--mind, innocently married her--while his first wife was
living. The woman was an inveterate drunkard; they had been separated
for years. Her death had been publicly reported in the newspapers, among
the persons killed in a railway accident abroad. When she claimed her
unhappy husband he was in delicate health. The shock killed him. His
widow--I can't, and won't, speak of her misfortune as if it was her
fault--knew of no living friends who were in a position to help her.
Not a great artist with a wonderful voice, she could still trust to her
musical accomplishments to provide for the necessities of life. Plead as
I might with her to forget the past, I always got the same reply: 'If
I was base enough to let myself be tempted by the happy future that you
offer, I should deserve the unmerited disgrace which has fallen on me.
Marry a woman whose reputation will bear inquiry, and forget me.' I was
mad enough to press my suit once too often. When I visited her on the
next day she was gone. Every effort to trace her has failed. Lost, my
friend--irretrievably lost to me!"

He offered his hand and said good-night. Dick held him back on the
doorstep.

"Break off your mad engagement to Miss Dulane," he said. "Be a man,
Howel; wait and hope! You are throwing away your life when happiness is
within your reach, if you will only be patient. That poor young creature
is worthy of you. Lost? Nonsense! In this narrow little world people
are never hopelessly lost till they are dead and underground. Help me
to recognize her by a description, and tell me her name. I'll find her;
I'll persuade her to come back to you--and, mark my words, you will live
to bless the day when you followed my advice."

This well-meant remonstrance was completely thrown away. Beaucourt's
despair was deaf to every entreaty that Dick had addressed to him.
"Thank you with all my heart," he said. "You don't know her as I do.
She is one of the very few women who mean No when they say No. Useless,
Dick--useless!"

Those were the last words he said to his friend in the c