smiling on.

'A mercenary or a worldly marriage is a poor thing; it can't bring the
right sort of growth,' Franklin went on. 'I'm not thinking of anything
sordid or self-seeking, except in the sense that self-development is
self-seeking. I'm thinking of conditions when a man and woman, without
romantic love, might find the best chances of development. Even without
romantic love, marriage may mean fine and noble things, mayn't it? a
home, you know, and shared, widened interests, and children,' said poor
Franklin, 'and the mutual help of two natures that understand and
respect each other.'

'Yes, of course,' said Helen, as he paused, fixing his eyes upon her;
'it may certainly mean all that, the more surely, perhaps, for having
begun without romance.'

'You agree?'

She smiled now at his insistence. 'Of course I agree.'

'You think it might mean happiness?'

'Of course; if they are both sensible people and if neither expects
romance of the other; that's a very important point.'

Franklin again paused, his eyes on hers. With a little effort he now
pursued. 'You know of my romance, Miss Buchanan, and you know that it's
over, except as a beautiful and sacred memory. You know that I don't
intend to let a memory warp my life. It may seem sudden to you, and I
ask your pardon if it's too sudden; but I want to marry; I want a home,
and children, and the companionship of some one I care for and respect,
very deeply. Therefore, Miss Buchanan,' he spoke on, turning a little
paler, but with the same deliberate steadiness, 'I ask you if you will
marry me.'

While Franklin spoke, it had crossed Helen's mind that perhaps he had
determined to follow her suggestion--buy a castle and find a princess to
put in it; it had crossed her mind that he might be going to ask her
advice on this momentous step--she was used to giving advice on such
momentous steps; but when he brought out his final sentence she was so
astonished that she rose from her chair and stood before him. She became
very white, and, with the strained look that then came to them, her eyes
opened widely. And she gazed down at Franklin Winslow Kane while, in
three flashes, searing and swift, like running leaps of lightning, three
thoughts traversed her mind: Gerald--All that money--A child. It was in
this last thought that she seemed, then, to fall crumblingly, like a
burnt-out thing reduced to powder. A child. What would it look like, a
child of hers and Franklin Kane'