k about the little girl."

"Yes I'm anxious to know what you think of her"

"Well, she's a Kelton; it's in the eyes; but there's a good deal of her
Grandmother Evans in her, too. Let me see,--your wife was one of those
Posey County Evanses? I remember perfectly. The old original Evans came
to this country with Robert Owen and started in with the New Harmony
community down there. There was a streak o' genius in that whole set.
But about Sylvia. I don't think I ever saw Sylvia's mother after she was
Sylvia's age."

"I don't think you did. She was away at school a good many years. Sylvia
is the picture of her mother. It's a striking likeness; but their
natures are wholly different."

He was very grave, and the despondency that he had begun to throw off
settled upon him again.

"Andrew, who was Sylvia's father? I never asked you that question
before, and maybe I oughtn't to ask it now; but I've often wondered. Let
me see, what was your daughter's name?"

"Edna."

"Just what happened to Edna, Andrew?" she persisted.

Kelton rose and paced the floor. Thrice he crossed the room; then he
flung himself down on the davenport beside Mrs. Owen.

"I don't know, Sally; I don't know! She was high-spirited as a girl, a
little willful and impulsive, but with the best heart in the world. She
lost her mother too soon; and in her girlhood we had no home--not even
the half-homes possible to naval officers. She had a good natural voice
and wanted to study music, so after we had been settled at Madison
College a year I left her in New York with a woman I knew pretty
well--the widow of a brother officer. It was a horrible, terrible,
hideous mistake. The life of the city went to her head. She wanted to
fit herself for the stage and they told me she could do it--had the gift
and all that. I ought never to have left her down there, but what could
I do? There was nothing in a town like Montgomery for her; she wouldn't
listen to it."

"You did your best, Andrew; you don't have to prove that to me. Well--"

"Edna ran off--without giving me any hint of what was coming. It was a
queer business. The woman I had counted on to look out for her and
protect her seemed utterly astonished at her disappearance and was
helpless about the whole matter when I went down there. It was my
fault--all my fault!"

He rose and flung up his arms with a gesture of passionate despair.

"Sit down, Andrew, and let's go through with it," she said calmly. "I