py; he would be a wretched man through every moment
of his life, and die a wretched death. Whatever forgiveness might come
in another world, there would be none in this. Helen herself would wish
me to be his friend."

"For the ultra-refinement of self-deception, give me a woman," said
Dexter, with even deepened bitterness.

"But why do we waste time and words?" continued Anne. Then seeing him
take up his hat and turn toward the door, she ran to him and seized his
arm. "You are not going?" she cried, abandoning the subject with a
quick, burning anxiety which told more than all the rest. "Will you not
take me, as you promised, to Multomah?"

"You still ask me to take you there?"

"Yes, yes."

"What do you think a man is made of?" he said, throwing down his hat,
but leaving her, and walking across to the window.

Anne followed him. "Mr. Dexter," she said, standing behind him,
shrinkingly, so that he could not see her, "would you wish me to marry
you when I love--love _him_, as I said, in those words which you have
read, and--even more?" Her face was crimson, her voice broken, her hands
were clasped so tightly that the red marks of the pressure were visible.

He turned and looked at her. Her face told even more than her words. All
his anger faded; it seemed to him then that he was the most unfortunate
man in the whole world. He took her in his arms, and kissed her sadly.
"I yield, child," he said. "Think of it no more. But, oh, Anne, Anne, if
it could but have been! Why does he have everything, and I nothing?" He
bowed his head over hers as it lay on his breast, and stood a moment;
then he released her, went to the door, and breathed the outside air in
silence.

Closing it, he turned and came toward her again, and in quite another
tone said, "Are you ready? If you are, we will go to the city, and start
as soon as possible for Multomah."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

"Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity:
The deep air listen'd round her as she rode,
And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear.
The little wide-mouth'd heads upon the spout
Had cunning eyes to see: the barking cur
Made her cheeks flame: ... the blind walls
Were full of chinks and holes; and overhead
Fantastic gables, crowding, stared: but she
Not less thro' all bore up."--TENNYSON.

Gregory Dexter kept his word. He telegraphed to Miss Teller and to Miss
Teller's lawyers. He thought of everything,