wonderful sight to
see the colonel, his dark stern face illuminated with a zealot's
enthusiasm, his eyes on fire, the ends of his gray moustache curling
around his set jaw, his head thrown back, his legs astride, and his
gold-headed stick held in the hollow of his elbow, like a lance at
rest! Paul saw it, and knew that this Quixotic transformation was part
of HER triumph, and yet had a miserable consciousness that the charms
of this Dulcinea del Toboso had scarcely been exaggerated. He turned
his eyes away, and said quietly,--

"Then you don't think this coincidence will ever awaken any suspicion
in regard to her real mother?"

"Not in the least, sir--not in the least," said the colonel, yet,
perhaps, with more doggedness than conviction of accent. "Nobody but
yourself would ever notice that police report, and the connection of
that woman's name with his was not notorious, or I should have known
it."

"And you believe," continued Paul hopelessly, "that Miss Yerba's
selection of the name was purely accidental?"

"Purely--a school-girl's fancy. Fancy, did I say? No, sir; by Jove,
an inspiration!"

"And," continued Paul, almost mechanically, "you do not think it may be
some insidious suggestion of an enemy who knew of this transient
relation that no one suspected?"

To his final amazement Pendleton's brow cleared! "An enemy? Gad! you
may be right. I'll look into it; and, if that is the case, which I
scarcely dare hope for, Mr. Hathaway, you can safely leave him to ME."

He looked so supremely confident in his fatuous heroism that Paul could
say no more. He rose and, with a faint smile upon his pale face, held
out his hand. "I think that is all I have to say. When you see Miss
Yerba again,--as you will, no doubt,--you may tell her that I am
conscious of no misunderstanding on my part, except, perhaps, as to the
best way I could serve her, and that, but for what she has told YOU, I
should certainly have carried away no remembrance of any
misunderstanding of HERS."

"Certainly," said the colonel, with cheerful philosophy, "I will carry
your message with pleasure. You understand how it is, Mr. Hathaway.
There is no accounting for these instincts--we can only accept them as
they are. But I believe that your intentions, sir, were strictly
according to what you conceived to be your duty. You won't take
something before you go? Well, then--good-by."

Two weeks later Paul found among his morning letters a