o his vast fortune; most of it in
very rich Alaska gold mines."

"Are you quite sure," said Fillmore Flagg, "that her father is dead?"

"Yes Fillmore, I am quite sure; although it is just possible that I may
have misunderstood Mrs. Bainbridge. In my hotel acquaintance with that
lady I discover that she is a very intelligent and accomplished person
of rare good sense. Splendid company; we seem to get on famously
together, I shall miss her very much I am sure. As usual, I am doing all
the talking: it is now your turn to say something."

"I think I could," said Fillmore Flagg, "if my chatterbox friend,
George Gaylord, would only give me a chance. Miss Fenwick I regard as
the most beautiful and cultured woman I have ever met. I do admire her
very much, but the possibility of ever winning her for a wife is, at
this time, too remote for me to consider for a moment. I must now pack
my trunk and then see the hotel clerk about getting it to the railway
station. So good night, George, I will see you again in the morning."

That night Fillmore Flagg could not sleep. The beautiful image of Fern
Fenwick was before him the moment he closed his eyes. The events of the
past two days, with their crowding memories, kept racing through his
mind: he could not think calmly or connectedly. He was in a fever of
expectancy regarding the meeting at Newburgh, and the prospect of
spending a whole week at Miss Fenwick's cottage on the Hudson. Then and
there, no doubt, she would tell him all about herself, her father, her
particular work, when and why she became interested in it etc. But what
about the father? How could he have an interview with her father, if
Mrs. Bainbridge was correct in saying that Mr. Fenwick had been dead for
several years? It was a mystery he could not solve. He did not doubt
Fern Fenwick for a moment and felt sure she would, at the proper time,
make everything plain. How gracious and winning she had been to him; she
seemed to bid him to have courage. In spite of her great wealth, and a
hundred other obstacles that might exist, he was more and more in love
every hour. If proving himself worthy of her confidence in every way
would win her love, surely then, he would win it. With this
determination fixed in his mind he fell asleep.

In her room that night, as Fern Fenwick brushed her hair and prepared
herself for rest, she often paused to ponder over her strange meeting
with Fillmore Flagg; thinking what a fine, manly look