ly expressed in words, but
marked, nevertheless. A few men did say openly, "Forgive me, Heathcote;
you can not be half so severe on me as I am on myself." But generally a
silent grip of the hand was the only outward expression.

The most noticeable sign was the deference paid him. It seemed as if a
man who had unjustly suffered so much, and been so cruelly suspected,
should now be crowned in the sight of all. They could not actually crown
him, but they did what they could.

Through this deference and regret, through these manifestations of
feeling from persons not easily stirred to feeling or deference,
Heathcote passed unmoved and utterly silent, like a man of marble. After
a while it was learned that he had transferred Helen's fortune to other
hands. At first he had tried to induce Miss Teller to take it, but she
had refused. He had then deeded it all to a hospital for children, in
which his wife had occasionally evinced some interest. Society divided
itself over this action; some admired it, others pronounced it Quixotic.
But the man who did it seemed to care nothing for either their praise or
their blame.

Rachel asked Isabel if she knew where Anne was.

"The very question I asked dear Miss Teller yesterday," replied Isabel.
"She told me that Anne had returned to that island up in the Northwest
somewhere, where she used to live. Then I asked, 'Is she going to remain
there?' and Miss Teller answered, 'Yes,' but in such a tone that I did
not like to question further."

"It has ended, then, as I knew it would," said Rachel. "In spite of all
that display on the witness stand, you see he has _not_ married her."

"He could not marry her very well at present, I suppose," began Isabel,
who had a trace of feeling in her heart for the young girl.

But Rachel interrupted her. "I tell you he will never marry her," she
said, her dark eyes flashing out upon the thin blonde face of her
companion. For old Mrs. Bannert was dead at last, and her
daughter-in-law had inherited the estate. Two weeks later she sailed
rather unexpectedly for Europe. But if unexpectedly, not causelessly.
She was not a woman to hesitate; before she went she had staked her all,
played her game, and--lost it.

Heathcote had never been, and was not now, a saint; but he saw life with
different eyes. During the old careless days it had never occurred to
him to doubt himself, or his own good (that is, tolerably good--good
enough) qualities. Suddenly he h