o show
her my admiration.

_February 21st._--Matters are coming to a climax. Last night Miss
Courtland said, with a dignified sweetness that was irresistible: "Mr.
Valentine, I have noticed that you have never been to see me. I have
not asked you, because I supposed you would feel at liberty to come
after having dined with my uncle."

"I assure you, Miss Courtland," I said, "I should of course have done
so, but the truth is I have had a slight misunderstanding with your
uncle, and I do not feel that I can go to his house."

Of course I added a lie to the rest of my duplicity. Her face was
lighted with a charming smile. "That is no reason for not coming; you
owe my uncle a call at all events. I will be at home to-morrow--no,
Thursday afternoon. Come in about five o'clock, and I will give you a
cup of tea. My uncle is never at home until six o'clock, and when he
does come in, never sees visitors. Even if you do meet him, it will be
a good opportunity to make your peace with him."

In a kind of dream I recklessly consented.

Morton came pushing up at that moment.

"By the way, Miss Courtland," he said, "will you be at home Thursday
afternoon? If so, with your permission, I will call upon you."

Of course he had overheard me, and wished to irritate me. Fortunately
some one spoke to Miss Courtland at that moment, and she turned away
without having heard Morton. For once my anger flamed out. I caught
him by the arm, and held it like a vise.

"Be careful," I said, between my teeth. "This sort of thing may go too
far."

He gave me a furious look, and shaking me off, left the room.

_February 22d._ TWO A.M.--My brain is reeling. My world is upside
down. There is no use in trying to sleep. I will write down what has
happened. It may calm me. This evening when I entered the house where
I was to entertain others at the expense of my self-respect, I found I
was before the time. The rooms were empty, with the exception of my
hostess, a very old lady, who held a formidable ear-trumpet in her
hand. Preceding me down the brightly lighted room was a gentleman.
There was something unpleasantly familiar in the cut of his coat and
the carriage of his head. It was my evil genius, Morton. I made up my
mind to wait until some one else came, before going in. As I stood in
the background this scene was enacted before me:

Morton bowed. The old lady looked blankly at him.

"I am Mr. Morton, madam," said he.

She continued to star