hadn't begun to save for her, and there was nothing else for
her to look to. Of course I expected her to marry at once; she was
altogether the most charming girl of her day. But there is the trouble;
she never did. She refused two most brilliant offers, one after the
other, and hosts of minor ones. There was some streak of girlish romance
in her, I suppose. I wish I could have been more on the spot and put on
pressure. But it was difficult to be on the spot. Helen never told me
about her offers until long after; and pressure with her wouldn't come
to much. Of course I didn't respect her the less for her foolishness.
But, dear me, dear me,' said Miss Buchanan, turning her eyes on the
fire, 'what a pity it has all been, what a pity it is, to see her
wasted.'

Franklin listened to this strange tale, dealing with matters to him
particularly strange, such as gambling, dishonoured mothers, horrors of
men and mercenary marriages. It all struck him as very dreadful; it all
sank into him; but it didn't oppress him in its strangeness; no outside
fact, however dreadful, ever oppressed Franklin. What did oppress him
was the thought of Helen in it all. This oppressed him very much.

Miss Buchanan continued to look into the fire for a little while after
she had finished her story, and then, bringing her eyes back to
Franklin's countenance, she looked at him keenly and steadily. 'And now,
Mr. Kane,' she said, 'you are perhaps asking yourself why I tell you all
this?'

Franklin was not asking it at all, and he answered with earnest
sincerity: 'Why, no; I think I ought to be told. I want to be told
everything about my friends that I may hear. I'm glad to know this,
because it makes me feel more than ever what a fine woman Miss Helen is,
and I'm sorry, because she's wasted, as you say. I only wish,' said
Franklin, and the intensity of cogitation deepened on his face, 'I only
wish that one could think out some plan to give her a chance.'

'I wish one could,' said Miss Buchanan. And without any change of voice
she added: 'I want you to marry her, Mr. Kane.'

Franklin sat perfectly still and turned his eyes on her with no apparent
altering of expression, unless the arrested stillness of his look was
alteration. His eyes and Miss Buchanan's plunged deep into each
other's, held each other's for a long time. Then, slowly, deeply,
Franklin flushed.

'But, Miss Buchanan,' he said, pausing between his sentences, for he did
not see his way,