ance of Miss Wildmere's power, and yet the opportunity of
her life was still hers. She had simply to put her hand into his with
a look of trust, and abide by the act, to secure a loyalty that would
always have tried to promote her best interests. That she was strongly
tempted to do this was proved by her manner, in spite of the fact that
she had promised Arnault not to decide against him before Saturday.

It was a moment of indecision. His strong assurance that he was
abundantly able to take care of her, that Mr. Muir was wealthy and
free from financial embarrassment, almost turned the scale. She felt
that both Arnault and her father were deceiving her for their own
purposes, and she had little hesitation in acting for herself
without regard to them. Graydon's suggestion that her action was not
high-toned, although delicately made, touched her pride to the quick,
and she was compelled to feel during this interview, as never before,
the superiority of the man who addressed her. She longed to force
Henry Muir to acknowledge the daughter of the man he shunned in
business; and not the least among her incentives was the thought of
triumphing over Madge as a possible rival.

"At any rate," she had thought, "if I become engaged to Graydon he
will have to be very much less fraternal. As to his not aiding papa,"
she concluded, "I can't help that. When once married I could make him
do all he could afford, and papa and mamma have no right to expect
anything more."

To the potency of all these considerations was added a sentiment for
the man who awaited her answer, and who chafed inwardly that it was so
long in coming.

"Truly," he thought, "this is a strange wooing. Henry himself
could not more carefully weigh the _pros_ and _cons_ than does she
apparently, nor am I in feverish suspense. I had hoped for something
different in my mating."

A glimmering perception that her manner was not calculated to inspire
a lover at last dawned on Miss Wildmere, and with it came a faltering
purpose to decide in favor of Graydon at once; but as she turned
toward him, to speak with what was meant to be a bewildering smile of
joy, a messenger from the office said, "A telegram, miss."

Graydon frowned, and then laughed outright. She stopped in the very
act of tearing open the envelope, and looked at him inquiringly.

"Oh, nothing," he said, lightly. "The opportuneness of that fellow's
coming was phenomenal. How much longer am I to wait for y