I cannot carry the burden of that fellow's asinine mistakes upon my shoulders forever." "I am afraid," she murmured, "that however clever the Mr.Burton of to-day may be, he will never be able to rid himself altogether of his predecessor's burdens." They were leaning over the gate, looking into the deserted hayfield.
The quiet of evening had stolen down upon them.

He drew a little nearer to her.
"Dear," he whispered, "there isn't really any Ellen, there isn't really any woman in the world of my thoughts, the world in which I live, save you." She was almost in his arms.

She did not resist but she looked a little pitifully into his face.

"You will not--please!" she begged.
Once more the music passed away into the clouds.

It was the gate into Paradise over which he had leaned, but the gate was locked, and as he stood there it seemed to grow higher and higher, until he could not even see over the top.