Bass went his way wondering, and the ex-Senator returned to his
hotel trying to decide just how this delicate situation should be
handled. Obviously Jennie had not told her father of her mission. She
had come as a last resource. She was now waiting for him in his
room.

There are crises in all men's lives when they waver between the
strict fulfilment of justice and duty and the great possibilities for
personal happiness which another line of conduct seems to assure. And
the dividing line is not always marked and clear. He knew that the
issue of taking her, even as his wife, was made difficult by the
senseless opposition of her father. The opinion of the world brought
up still another complication. Supposing he should take her openly,
what would the world say? She was a significant type emotionally, that
he knew. There was something there--artistically,
temperamentally, which was far and beyond the keenest suspicion of the
herd. He did not know himself quite what it was, but he felt a
largeness of feeling not altogether squared with intellect, or perhaps
better yet, experience, which was worthy of any man's desire. "This
remarkable girl," he thought, seeing her clearly in his mind's
eye.

Meditating as to what he should do, he returned to his hotel, and
the room. As he entered he was struck anew with her beauty, and with
the irresistible appeal of her personality. In the glow of the shaded
lamp she seemed a figure of marvelous potentiality.

"Well," he said, endeavoring to appear calm, "I have looked after
your brother. He is out."

She rose.

"Oh," she exclaimed, clasping her hands and stretching her arms out
toward him. There were tears of gratefulness in her eyes.

He saw them and stepped close to her. "Jennie, for heaven's sake
don't cry," he entreated. "You angel! You sister of mercy! To think
you should have to add tears to your other sacrifices."

He drew her to him, and then all the caution of years deserted him.
There was a sense both of need and of fulfilment in his mood. At last,
in spite of other losses, fate had brought him what he most
desired--love, a woman whom he could love. He took her in his
arms, and kissed her again and again.

The English Jefferies has told us that it requires a hundred and
fifty years to make a perfect maiden. "From all enchanted things of
earth and air, this preciousness has been drawn. From the south wind
that breathed a century and a half over the green wheat; fro