econd marriage,
and he has done that. If he has blundered again for himself he will
make the best of it in the certainty that there is now another and
absorbing interest to his life.

CHAPTER X.

I cannot argue, I can only feel.--GOETHE.

Grandon runs carelessly over his mail before the morning meeting at Mr.
Sherburne's. Two letters interest him especially and he lays them
aside. One is from Eugene. That improvident young man is out of money.
He is tired of Lake George and desires to go to Newport. He is sorry
that Floyd is getting himself into such a mess with the business, and
is quite sure the best thing would be to sell out to Wilmarth. He has
had a letter from him in which he, Wilmarth, confesses that matters are
in a very serious strait unless Mr. Floyd Grandon is willing to risk
his private fortune. "Don't do it," counsels the younger. "The new
machinery is a confounded humbug, but if any one _can_ make it work,
Wilmarth is the man. If St. Vincent wants to get his daughter a
husband, why does he not offer her to Wilmarth? If she is as pretty as
you say, she ought not go begging for a mate, but when _I_ marry for a
fortune I want the money in hand, not locked up in a lot of useless
trumpery."

A pang goes through Floyd's soul. If he never had offered her to
Eugene! It seems almost as if he had stabbed her to the heart. He can
see her soft, entreating, velvet eyes, and he covers his face with his
hands to hide the blush of shame. He will make it all up to her a
thousand times. Ah, can mere money ever take out such a sting?

The other letter is from a German professor and dear friend that he
left behind in Egypt, who expects to reach America early in September,
and find that Herr Grandon has improved his time and transcribed and
arranged all the notes, as he has so many more. There will be little
enough time, so the good comrade must not idle. They will have a good
long vacation afterward, when they can climb mountains and shoot
buffaloes, and explore the New World together, but now every day is of
value!

Floyd Grandon gives a smile of dismay. The precious days are flying so
rapidly. And everything has changed, the most important of all, his own
life. How could he?

He is a little late at the lawyer's, and they are all assembled. He
gives a quick glance toward Wilmarth. The impassible face has its usual
half-sneer and the covert politeness so baffling. Lindmeyer has been
explaining something, and