quivalent to election. They seem certain of it. . . . And they
were insistent that I accept."

"Oh--oh, Albert!"

"Yes. They said a good many flattering things, things I should like to
believe. They said my war record and my writing and all that had made
me a prominent man in the county--Please don't think I take any stock in
that--"

"But _I_ do. Go on."

"Well, that is all. They seemed confident that I would make a good
congressman. I am not so sure. Of course the thing . . . well, it does
tempt me, I confess. I could keep on with my writing, of course. I
should have to leave the home people for a part of the year, but I could
be with them or near them the rest. And . . . well, Helen, I--I think
I should like the job. Just now, when America needs Americans and the
thing that isn't American must be fought, I should like--if I were sure
I was capable of it--"

"Oh, but you are--you ARE."

"Do you really think so? Would you like to have me try?"

He felt her arm tremble upon his. She drew a long breath.

"Oh, I should be so PROUD!" she breathed.

There was a quiver in her voice, almost a sob. He bent toward her. She
was looking off toward the sea, the moonlight upon her face was like a
glory, her eyes were shining--and there were tears in them. His heart
throbbed wildly.

"Helen!" he cried. "Helen!"

She turned and looked up into his face. The next moment her own face was
hidden against his breast, his arms were about her, and . . . and the
risk, the risk he had feared to take, was taken.

They walked home after a time, but it was a slow, a very slow walk with
many interruptions.

"Oh, Helen," he kept saying, "I don't see how you can. How can you? In
spite of it all. I--I treated you so badly. I was SUCH an idiot. And you
really care? You really do?"

She laughed happily. "I really do . . . and . . . and I really have, all
the time."

"Always?"

"Always."

"Well--well, by George! And . . . Helen, do you know I think--I think I
did too--always--only I was such a young fool I didn't realize it. WHAT
a young fool I was!"

"Don't say that, dear, don't. . . . You are going to be a great man.
You are a famous one already; you are going to be great. Don't you know
that?"

He stooped and kissed her.

"I think I shall have to be," he said, "if I am going to be worthy of
you."

CHAPTER XX

Albert, sitting in the private office of Z. Snow and Co., dropped his
newspaper and looked up with a smi