bestowed the intimacies of
a sister's affection. I had made so strong an effort to be honorable
with myself, at least; to persuade myself that I was fulfilling an
honest mission, but had failed, for at last I had fallen to the level
of an ordinary hypocrite; I had found myself to be a purse-proud fool.
When I went into that restaurant my sympathies were dead, and when
that man pointed at the poor menial and said that his name was Henry
DeGolyer"--

"No, no," she said, hiding her face, "your sympathies were not dead.
You--you were a hero."

"I was simply a frozen-blooded fool," he replied. "And now I must tell
you something, but I know that it will make you despise me. My father
was a beast--he broke my mother's heart. The first thing I remember,
her dead arms were about me and a chill was upon me--I knew not the
meaning of death, but I was terrorized by its cold mystery. I cried
out, but no one came, and there in the dark, with that icy problem, I
remained alone"--

"Oh, don't," she cried, and her hands seemed to flutter in her lap.
She got up, and putting her arms on the top of the desk, leaned her
head upon them.

"How could I despise you for that?" she sobbed.

"Not for that," he bitterly answered, "but for this I was taken to
the Foundlings' Home--was taken from that place to become the
disgraceful property of an Italian hag. She taught me, compelled me to
be a thief. Once she and some ruffians robbed a store and forced me to
help them. I ought to have died before that. She demanded that I
should steal something every day, and if I didn't she beat me. I got
up early one morning and robbed _her_. I took a handful of money out
of her drawer and ran away. But in the street a horror seized me, and
I threw the money in the gutter and fled from it. Don't you see that I
was born a thief? But I have striven so hard since then to be an
honorable man. But don't try not to pity, to despise me. You can't
help it. But, my God, I do love you!"

She turned toward him with a glory in her eyes, and he caught her in
his arms.

The old building was silent, and the shout of the newsboy was far
away.

"Angel of sweet mercy," he said, still holding her in his arms, "let
us leave this struggling place. I know of an old house in Virginia--it
is near the sea, and rest lies in the woods about it. Let us live
there, not to dream idly, but to work, to be a devoted man and his
happy wife. Come."

He took her hand, and they went ou