nging her parasol and Cosden walking meekly beside her.
Finally Marian turned to him and laughed.

"What a dance that girl is leading him!"

"Do you think she cares for him?"

"In her way; but if he marries her he will have earned her!--He went
down to Bermuda on purpose to become engaged to Merry."

"He did!" Hamlen exclaimed, surprised; "why, they were never together
when I saw them."

"Nor often at other times. Of course, it was ridiculous,--but with you,
Philip, she'll be the happiest girl in all the world."

His eyes dropped quickly as she turned the conversation, and the
expression on his face completely changed.

"You are wrong, Marian," he protested; "no happiness can ever come to
any woman through me."

"Don't disparage yourself," she answered gently. "You are a different
man from what you were. Do you think I would counsel this if I were not
sure?"

"You believe it, Marian," he conceded, "and I wish I shared your
confidence. But I know myself. The time when I might have made something
of what I had passed long ago. If I am to go on at all it must be with
my real self suppressed, and the only way to do this is to plod my path
alone."

"Why slip back, Philip? Why suppress your real self?"

"I know the danger of permitting it to assume control."

"When last we talked you seemed willing to accept my judgment."

"I am still, in everything but this. I appreciate your desire for my
happiness, Marian, but you are taking a responsibility beyond what is
wise. I am complimented by your daughter's willingness to listen to an
offer of marriage from me, but if the test really came she could not
meet it."

"She would, Philip,--she would."

"I cannot comprehend it," he continued; "she has seen me at my worst."

"She understands you, and appreciates the wonderful qualities you
possess. She is too young to know the depth of love, but old enough to
recognize what a man like you can become to her. If you would only
speak with her you too would understand."

Hamlen moved uncomfortably in his chair, and was silent for what seemed
an interminable period. When at last he turned he spoke with a
conviction which shocked her.

"No, Marian," he said deliberately; "it can never be. Let us end this
farce before it goes too far."

"Philip!" she cried, seeing her work of months crumbling before her, and
reading in his determined face the miscarriage of what she believed to
be predestined. "I can't permit you to destr