ished a world of love upon him; but
he swallowed the bitter draught of having to endure her by always
remembering that she was heiress, in all probability, to a cool million
of money, and money had been his idol all his life long. He could not
exist without it.

He was not one of the kind who could face the world manfully and snatch
from it its treasures by the sweat of his brow. No, he could not give up
this dream of wealth that was almost as much as life to him.

In the very midst of his reverie a light step crossed the library, but
he did not hear it. It was Dorothy.

She stole up quietly and knelt on the hassock beside his chair.

"What were you thinking of, Harry?" she said.

He was equal to the occasion.

"Of what or whom should I be thinking but yourself, Dorothy?" he
replied.

"It could not have been a very pleasant thought, I fear, for you sighed
deeply," she murmured.

"That is all your fancy, Dorothy," he declared--"that my thoughts were
not pleasant. True, I may have sighed, but did you never hear of such a
thing as a sigh of contentment?"

She laughed merrily.

"I have heard of it, but thought the words rather misplaced."

"I assure you they are quite true and practicable."

"Where is Iris?" she asked, suddenly.

"I am sure I do not know," he answered, trying to speak carelessly.

"I want to have a real long talk with you, Harry," she said. "I have
heard that there should be nothing but the utmost confidence between
engaged lovers. Shall it not be so with us?"

"Of course," he answered, starting rather guiltily, for he had a faint
intuition of what was coming.

"Harry," she whispered, "I want you to tell me--is it true--what they
are all saying--that you have ceased to love me?"

"All saying!" he echoed. "Who is saying it? What old busybodies are
sticking their noses in my affairs now?" he cried, with something on his
lips that sounded very like an imprecation.

"But it isn't true, is it, Harry?" she breathed. "I should want to die
if I thought it was."

"Look here, Dorothy," he cried, "if you want to believe all these
mischief-makers tell you, you will have enough to do all through your
life. You will have to either believe me or believe them. Now, which
shall it be?"

"But answer my question, 'Yes' or 'No?'" pleaded Dorothy. "I--I am
waiting for your answer, Harry."

There was a slight rustle in the doorway, and glancing up with a start,
Kendal saw Iris Vincent standing there,