but I have hopes," which was sure to reconcile
her for the time being to my staying away a little longer. To be sure I
was my own mistress, but I was well aware, notwithstanding, that Aunt
Helen was fully capable of coming on some fine day, with horse, foot,
and dragoons, and putting a summary end to my financial idyl.

I began also to put the question to myself, why I wished to remain in
New York. I had accomplished all that was possible, without revealing my
identity, in the way of supervising the affairs of Francis Prime and
Company. It was clearer to me than ever that a fortune could only be
made by slow degrees, and that years must elapse doubtless before my
protege would attain his ambition. The letters forwarded by Mr. Chelm,
and my own observations on the spot, told me that the affairs of the
firm were only moderately prosperous. Especially was I convinced of the
truth of this last statement, from the fact that my employer had of late
mixed himself up in certain speculations with Mr. Dale, from which he
had made profits sufficient to recoup his previous losses and still show
a balance in his favor. But I knew that he, as well as I, mistrusted the
soundness of the firm across the street, and felt that in yielding to
the temptation of following its lead he was running the risk of serious
losses. Mr. Prime confessed as much to me, and declared that after a
single venture to which he had already committed himself was terminated,
he intended to have no more transactions with Roger Dale.

It was indeed difficult to say why I still continued to remain in Mr.
Prime's employ. Although, as I have indicated, I put the question to
myself sometimes, I shrank from doing so, and felt disposed to let the
future take care of itself, provided I was permitted to enjoy the
present undisturbed. But this was beginning to be more and more
difficult. There were interests at home which could not be longer
neglected without my incurring blame. I belonged to societies and clubs
at which my presence was required. Then, too, it would not be many weeks
before the Honorable Ernest would return to pay his promised visit to
Aunt Agnes, and I felt far from sure that I should not make a mistake to
discourage his advances. There was a wide difference between the sphere
of an Alice Bailey and the Duchess of Clyde.

But still I delayed my return. How well I recall one Saturday afternoon
in June, when as by a common instinct business men seemed to c