ve had her own dreams which had never entirely ended
in rainbow mists. She did not know how hardly dreams die. They are
sometimes not entirely stamped out during a long lifetime.

That evening Von Rosen came to call on Annie and she received him
alone in the best parlour. She felt embarrassed and shy, but very
happy. Her lover brought her an engagement ring, a great pearl, which
had been his mother's and put it on her finger, and Annie eyed her
finger with a big round gaze like a bird's. Von Rosen laughed at the
girl holding up her hand and staring at the beringed finger.

"Don't you like it, dear?" he said.

"It is the most beautiful ring I ever saw," said Annie, "but I keep
thinking it may not be true."

"The truest things in the world are the things which do not seem so,"
he said, and caught up the slender hand and kissed the ring and the
finger.

Margaret on the verandah had seen Von Rosen enter the Eustace house
and had guessed dully at the reason. She had always thought that Von
Rosen would eventually marry Alice Mendon and she wondered a little,
but not much. Her own affairs were entirely sufficient to occupy her
mind. Her position had become more impossible to alter and more
ghastly. That night Wilbur had brought home a present to celebrate
her success. It was something which she had long wanted and which she
knew he could ill afford:--a circlet of topazes for her hair. She
kissed him and put it on to please him, but it was to her as if she
were crowned because of her infamy and she longed to snatch the thing
off and trample it. And yet always she was well aware that it was not
remorse which she felt, but a miserable humiliation that she,
Margaret Edes, should have cause for remorse. The whole day had been
hideous. The letters and calls of congratulation had been incessant.
There were brief notices in a few papers which had been marked and
sent to her and Wilbur had brought them home also. Her post-office
box had been crammed. There were requests for her autograph. There
were requests for aid from charitable institutions. There were
requests for advice and assistance from young authors. She had two
packages of manuscripts sent her for inspection concerning their
merits. One was a short story, and came through the mail; one was a
book and came by express. She had requests for work from editors and
publishers. Wilbur had brought a letter of congratulation from his
partner. It was absolutely impossible for he