For she does not know yet--she does not see what the possession of Helmsley's millions will mean to her.

And by and bye when she does know she will change--she will be grateful to me for setting her free----" He paused, and the hot tears sprang to his eyes--"No--I am wrong! Nothing will change Mary! She will always be her sweet self--pure and faithful!--and she will do all the good with Helmsley's money that he believed and hoped she would.

But I--I must leave her to it!" Then the thought came to him that he had perhaps been rough in speech to her that day--abrupt in parting from her--even unkind in overwhelming her with the force of his abnegation, when she was so tired with her journey--so worn out--so weary looking.

Acting on a sudden impulse, he threw on his cap.
"I will go and say good-night to her,"-- he said--"For the last time!" He strode swiftly up the village street and saw through the cottage window that the lamp was lighted on the table.

He knocked at the door, but there was no answer save a tiny querulous bark from Charlie.