to sell them!"

"Then give her your own money."

"Most that I have is mortgaged to him on the investments I made at his
direction," wailed the woman.

"Well?"

"I will try--I am trying, desperately! I will save her, if I can!
But--there is Monsignor Lafelle!"

"Is he working with Mr. Ames?"

"He works with and against him. And I'm sure he holds something over
you and me. But, I will send for him--I will renew my vows to his
Church--anything to--"

"Listen, dearest," interrupted Carmen. "I will go to Mr. Ames myself.
If I am the cause of it all, I can--"

"You will not!" cried the Beaubien fiercely. "I--I would kill him!"

"Why, mother dearest!"

The desperate woman put her head in the girl's lap and sobbed
bitterly.

"There is a way out, dearest," whispered Carmen. "I _know_ there is,
no matter what seems to be or to happen, for 'underneath are the
everlasting arms.' I am not afraid. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles told me this
morning that Mrs. Ames intends to give a big reception next week. Of
course we will go. And then I will see Mr. Ames and talk with him.
Don't fear, dearest. He will do it for me. And--it will be right, I
know."

And Carmen sat with the repentant woman all that day, struggling with
her to close the door upon her sordid past, and to open it wide to
"that which is to come."

* * * * *

The days following were busy ones for many with whom our story is
concerned. Every morning saw Carmen on her way to the Beaubien, to
comfort and advise. Every afternoon found her yielding gently to the
relentless demands of society, or to the tiresome calls of her
thoroughly ardent wooer, the young Duke of Altern. Carmen would have
helped him if she could. But she found so little upon which to build.
And she bore with him largely on account of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, for
whom she and the Beaubien were now daily laboring. The young man
tacitly assumed proprietorship over the girl, and all society was agog
with expectation of the public announcement of their engagement.

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles still came and went upon a tide of unruffled joy.
The cornucopia of Fortune lay full at her feet. Her broker, Ketchim,
basked in the sunlight of her golden smiles--and quietly sold his own
Simiti stock on the strength of her patronage. Society fawned and
smirked at her approach, and envied her brilliant success, as it
copied the cut of her elaborate gowns--all but the deposed Mrs. Ames