whom I
have perhaps been the means, through God's guidance, of bringing
together. For it was to me that Reay first spoke that day on the
seashore--and it was at my request that he first entered Mary's home.
Can this be the way in which Divine Wisdom has chosen to redeem me?
I,--who have never been loved as I would have desired to be loved,--am I
now instructed how,--leaving myself altogether out of the question,--I
may prosper the love of others and make two noble lives happy? It may be
so,--and that in the foundation of their joy, I shall win my own soul's
peace! So--leaving my treasures on earth,--I shall find my treasure in
heaven, 'where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do
not break through nor steal!'"

Still looking at the fire he watched the glowing embers, now reddening,
now darkening--or leaping up into sparks of evanescent flame,--and
presently stooping, picked up the little dog Charlie from his warm
corner on the hearth and fondled him.

"You were the first to love me in my loneliness!" he said, stroking the
tiny animal's soft ears--"And,--to be quite exact,--I owe my life and
all my present surroundings to you, Charlie! What shall I leave you in
my will, eh?"

Charlie yawned capaciously, showing very white teeth and a very red
tongue, and winked one bright eye.

"You're only a dog, Charlie! You've no use for money! You rely entirely
upon your own attractiveness and the kindness of human nature! And so
far your confidence has not been misplaced. But your fidelity and
affection are only additional proofs of the powerlessness of money.
Money bought you, Charlie, no doubt, in the first place--but money
failed to keep you! And now, though by your means Mary found me where I
lay helpless and unconscious on the hills in the storm, I can neither
make you richer nor happier, Charlie! You're only a dog!--and a
millionaire is no more to you than any other man!"

Charlie yawned comfortably again. He seemed to be perfectly aware that
his master was talking to him, but what it was about he evidently did
not know, and still more evidently did not care. He liked to be petted
and made much of--and presently curled himself up in a soft silken ball
on Helmsley's knee, with his little black nose pointed towards the fire,
and his eyes blinking lazily at the sparkle of the flames. And so Mary
found them, when at last she came down from her room to prepare supper.

"Is the headache better, my dear?" ask