a_. They see a great success for you, for me, for all of us.
Westervelt is ready to pour out his money to stage the thing gorgeously.
Come to-morrow to meet them. Come proudly. You will find them both ready
to take your hand--eager to acknowledge that they have misjudged you. We
have both made a fight for good work and failed. No one can blame us if
we yield to necessity."

The thought of once more meeting her, of facing her managers with
confident gaze on equal terms, made Douglass tremble with excitement. He
dressed with care, attempting as best he could to put away all the dust
and odors of his miserable tenement, and went forth looking much like
the old-time, self-confident youth who faced down the clerk. His mind
ran over every word in Helen's note a dozen times, extracting each time
new and hidden meanings.

"If it is the great success they think it, my fortune is made." His
spirits began to overleap all bounds. "It will enable me to meet her as
an equal--not in worth," he acknowledged--"she is so much finer and
nobler than any man that ever lived--but I will at least be something
more than a tramp kennelled in a musty hole." His mind took another
flight. "I can go home with pride also. Oh, success is a sovereign
thing. Think of Hugh and Westervelt waiting to welcome me--and Helen!"

When he thought of her his confident air failed him, his face flushed,
his hands felt numb. She shone now like a far-off violet star. She had
recovered her aloofness, her allurement in his mind, and it was
difficult for him to realize that he had once known her intimately and
that he had treated her inconsiderately. "I must have been mad," he
exclaimed. It seemed months since he had looked into her face.

The clerk he dreaded to meet was off duty, and as the elevator boy knew
him he did not approach the desk, but went at once to Helen's
apartments.

She did not meet him at the door as he had foolishly expected. Delia,
the maid, greeted him with a smile, and led him back to the
reception-room and left him alone.

He heard Helen's voice, the rustle of her dress, and then she stood
before him. As he looked into her face and read love and pity in her
eyes he lost all fear, all doubt, and caught her hand in both of his,
unable to speak a word in his defence--unable even to tell her of his
gratitude and love.

She recovered herself first, and, drawing back, looked at him
searchingly. "You poor fellow, you've been working like mad. Y