of March brought him his royalty check from Hutchins
& Waterbury, and it was, as had been predicted, gratifyingly large, and
reduced materially what he had called his "campaign expenses." In the
same mail, however, was a bill from the Storage Company, in one of
whose spacious chambers there reposed more copies of his novel than he
liked to think of--over 250,000--the actual sales had been 260,000 in
spite of the published announcements of a higher figure. The firm had
thirty or forty thousand on hand, printed in a moment of confident
enthusiasm when the flurry was at its height. Both communications
brought before Van Buren's mind's eye all too vividly the specter of
his duplicity, and he was too much of a man of conscience to be able to
put it lightly aside. He tried to console himself with the idea that
all is fair in love and war, but he could not, and his remorse caused
him many a sleepless night. Finally--it was on the eve of the posting
of the wedding invitations--scruple overcame him, and he resolved that
he could not honestly lead his bride to the altar with such a record of
deceit upon his escutcheon, especially in view of the fact that it was
through this deceit that his happiness had been won.

"It is better to lose her before the ceremony than after it," he told
himself, and, bitter though the confidence might be, he made up his
mind to tell Miss Tooker everything. "Only, I must break it gently,"
he observed.

With this difficult errand in mind, he called upon his fiancee, and,
after the usual greeting, he started in on his confession. He had
hardly begun it, however, when his courage failed him, and with the
oozing of that his words failed him also. He did have the courage,
however, to seek to reveal the exact situation in another way.

"Ethel dear," he said, awkwardly fumbling his gloves, "I want to show
you something. I have a--a little surprise for you."

The girl eyed him narrowly.

"For me?" she said.

"Yes," he answered. "The fact is, it's--it's a sort of wedding present
I have for you, and I think you ought to see it before--well, _now_.
Will you go?"

Miss Tooker was interested at once, and, taking a hansom, they were
driven to the Harrison Storage Warehouse on Forty-second Street Arrived
there, Van Buren led her to the elevator and thence up to the small
room in which lay the corroding and tell-tale packages--an enormous
bulk--that were slowly but surely eating up his happiness.