d humility. So the old chap was the best sport of them all! In his
slow way he had accomplished what Stephen had merely talked about. For
the first time it occurred to the young man that his father was not by
any means so obvious or so simple as he had believed him to be. Had
Corinna spoken the truth when she called him a sentimentalist at heart?

"It's better not to mention it before your mother," Mr. Culpeper was
saying huskily, while Stephen wondered. "She's the kindest heart in the
world. There isn't a better woman on earth; but she'd always think the
money ought to go to one of the married children. She couldn't
understand that it's good business to keep up the property. Women have
queer ideas about business."

"Well, you're a brick, Father!" exclaimed the young man, and he meant it
from his heart. His voice trembled, and he put his hand on his father's
arm for a minute as he used to do when he was a child. Words wouldn't
come to him; but he was deeply touched, and it seemed to him that the
barrier which had divided him from his family had suddenly fallen. Never
since his return from France had he felt so near to his father as he
felt at that moment.

"Well, well, I thought you'd like to know," rejoined Mr. Culpeper, and
his voice also shook a little. "I must be getting down town now. May I
take you in my car?"

"No, I rather like the walk, sir. It does me good." Then, without a word
more, but with a smile of sympathy and understanding, they parted, and
Stephen went out of the house and descended the steps to the street.

It was true, as his mother had observed, that he was happier to-day than
he had been for weeks; but this happiness was founded upon what Mrs.
Culpeper would have regarded as the most reprehensible of deceptions. He
was happier simply because, in spite of everything he had done to
prevent it, Fate had decreed that he was soon to see Patty again. The
longing of the past few weeks was to be appeased, if only for an hour,
and he was to see her again! He did not look beyond the coming night. He
did not attempt to analyse either his motive or his emotions. The future
was still obscure; life was still evolving its inscrutable problem; but
it was enough for him, at the moment, to know that he should see her
again. And this certainty, coming after the hungry pain of the last
three weeks, brought a glow to his eyes and that haunting smile, like
the smile of memory, to his lips.

The light that Corinna