sen up before his mind's eye,
and, for the first time it brought him no satisfaction. For the first
time he had associated the probable object of his plans with her.
Charlie Bryant was no longer a mere offender against the law in his
mind. In concentrating his official efforts against him he realized
the jeopardy in which his own regard for Kate Seton placed him. He saw
that his success now in ridding the district of the whisky-runner
would, at the same time, rob him of all possible chance of ever
obtaining the regard of this woman he loved. It meant an ostracism
based upon the strongest antipathy--the antipathy of a woman wounded
in her tenderest emotions, that wonderful natural instinct which is
perhaps beyond everything else in her life.

The more than pity of it. Kate's interest in Charlie Bryant had
assumed proportions which threatened to overwhelm his whole purpose.
It became almost a tragedy. Pondering upon this ominous realization a
sort of panic came near to taking hold of him. Apart from his own
position, the pain and suffering he knew he must inflict upon her set
him flinching.

Her protestations of Charlie's innocence were very nearly absurd. To
a mind trained like his there was little enough doubt of the man's
offense. He was a rank "waster," but, as in the case of all such
creatures, there was a woman ready to believe in him with all the
might of feminine faith. It was a bitter thought that in this case
Kate Seton should be the woman. She did believe. He was convinced of
her honesty in her declaration. She believed from the bottom of her
heart, she, a woman of such keen sense and intelligence. It was--yes,
it was maddening. Through it all he saw his duty lying plainly before
him. His whole career was at stake, that career for which only he had
hitherto lived, and which, eventually, he had hoped to lay at Kate's
feet.

What could he do? There was no other way. He--must--go--on. His dream
was wrecking. It was being demolished before his eyes. It was not
being sent crushing at one mighty stroke, but was being torn to shreds
and destroyed piecemeal.

He strove to stiffen himself before the blow, and his very attitude
expressed something of his effort. He told himself a dozen times that
he must accept the verdict, and carry his duty through, his duty to
himself as well as to his superiors. But conviction was lacking. The
human nature in him was rebelling. For all his discipline it would not
be denied. And