ry great compliment."

"But you loved me once," I said banally.

"I do not consider it fair to mention that now."

"I never loved that other woman. I had never seen her more than once.
You do not know her."

"Ah, is that it? Perhaps I could tell you something of one Helena von
Ritz. Is it not so?"

"Yes, that was the property of Helena von Ritz," I told her, looking her
fairly in the eye.

"Kind of you, indeed, to involve me, as you say, with a lady of her
precedents!"

Now her color was up full, and her words came crisply. Had I had
adequate knowledge of women, I could have urged her on then, and brought
on a full-fledged quarrel. Strategically, that must have been a far
happier condition than mere indifference on her part. But I did not
know; and my accursed love of fairness blinded me.

"I hardly think any one is quite just to that lady," said I slowly.

"Except Mr. Nicholas Trist! A beautiful and accomplished lady, I doubt
not, in his mind."

"Yes, all of that, I doubt not."

"And quite kind with her little gifts."

"Elisabeth, I can not well explain all that to you. I can not, on my
honor."

"Do not!" she cried, putting out her hand as though in alarm. "Do not
invoke your honor!" She looked at me again. I have never seen a look
like hers. She had been calm, cold, and again indignant, all in a
moment's time. That expression which now showed on her face was one yet
worse for me.

Still I would not accept my dismissal, but went on stubbornly: "But may
I not see your father and have my chance again? I _can not_ let it go
this way. It is the ruin of my life."

But now she was advancing, dropping down a step at a time, and her face
was turned straight ahead. The pink of her gown was matched by the pink
of her cheeks. I saw the little working of the white throat wherein some
sobs seemed stifling. And so she went away and left me.

CHAPTER XXIII

SUCCESS IN SILK

As things are, I think women are generally better creatures
than men.--_S.T. Coleridge_.

It was a part of my duties, when in Washington, to assist my chief in
his personal and official correspondence, which necessarily was very
heavy. This work we customarily began about nine of the morning. On the
following day I was on hand earlier than usual. I was done with
Washington now, done with everything, eager only to be off on the far
trails once more. But I almost forgot my own griefs when I saw my chief.
When I found him,