best possible motives to you!"

"Levi Markham--I cannot understand you."

"Why should you try, madam?"

Olive Treadwell got up and paced the room.

"You humiliate me!" she said angrily. "Of course I desire my brother's
son to inherit rightfully. He will have all that I die possessed of.
I am seeking his interests but only justly and humanly. When he first
came in contact with this--this investment of yours--as you call him,
it was as _tutor_ to this Morley. Consider! _tutor_, my brother's son,
to your--your waif! And the dear, noble fellow--my Lans, fell in love
with him. Has trusted and helped him socially. Why, he made his
college life easy for him by his own popularity. Quite by accident I
discovered the vulgar intrigue of this--this Morley. I saw him go into
a house where a little seamstress of mine lives! I inquired; I found
him out; and--and, not for any low gain, but gain in the larger, higher
sense I pocketed my pride and came to you as helpless women do come to
strong men and you make me feel like a--village scandal-monger!"

"I beg your pardon, madam. I am sorry that my manner suggests this to
you. But can you not see that I must master this situation in my own
way? I cannot sell out my interest in my investment without reason.
Give me a--week--no forty-eight hours!"

"Thank heaven!" Olive Treadwell exclaimed, "there is the carriage. No
matter what the outcome of this is, Levi Markham, I reckon you'll live
to thank me for putting you on the right track."

"I'm still on my narrow gauge, madam." Markham smiled not unkindly and
put out his hand.

"Please bid your sister farewell. I shall not return to Bretherton, I
imagine. I will never willingly abase myself again, not even for Lans!"

When she had gone Markham sank into the big leather chair and looked
blankly before him. His eyes were fixed across the desk where he
himself generally sat, and a kind of pity moved him for the part of him
that no one ever knew or suspected. In Sandy Morley, he had realized
nearer his yearning and ambition than he ever had before. His paternal
instincts had been, to a certain degree, gratified. The boy had seemed
so entirely his; had responded so splendidly to his efforts for him.
They had grown so close together during the past years in their silent,
undemonstrative fashion. Could it be possible that he had been
deceived?

And then Markham pulled himself together and went around the desk to
his r