act of yours at all. Common sense, I suppose, told me you
would not be foiled if you could help it. All men are selfish."

"Are not women?"

"No, sir," I replied, "they are foolish."

"Excuse the question, but has Mrs. Desmonde complained to you?"

"No, sir," I said quickly--that was a little story and then again it was
not, I reasoned.

"So I must conclude that you feared for the safety of your friend,
reading, as you thought you did, the terrible selfishness of my heart.

"I guess that is about right," I said.

"You admit this as a fact?"

"Yes; before a judge, if you desire," I said.

"That being the case, let me here say from my heart I am not as much in
love with Mrs. Desmonde as I might be, and one reason is that I find her
more and more enveloped in the strange fancies peculiar, I judge, to
herself alone."

"What am I to understand from this? Strange fancies, indeed! If truth
and love are strange fancies, she is indeed enveloped. My darling Clara!
She is a light leading to the eternal city. I knew you could not
understand her."

"Well, Miss Minot, let me explain. I know she is graceful, and
beautiful, and truly good, but none can know positively there is an
eternal city, and I must say I do not feel interested in the dreamy
talk, which is, after all, only talk."

"Goodness!" I exclaimed, "are you an infidel?"

"I cannot vouch for anything beyond this life."

"If I felt I could not, I'd commit suicide to-morrow."

He laughed heartily at this, and, as we were at Aunt Peggy's door, could
not answer until we turned toward home, when he said:

"Instead of taking my life, I desire to keep it as long as I can, and
get all the enjoyment possible on this side the grave. I hope I have
made myself understood, and disarmed every fear of your friendly heart."

"The days will tell," I replied, and our walk at last was ended.

It had been thoroughly uncomfortable to me, although he had seemed to be
enjoying every step. I went to my room that night, and in my dreams
tried to find the garden of Eden somewhere in our town, while a snake,
with eyes like Wilmur Benton's, seemed to be crawling close behind me,
and with the daybreak, I said:

"That dream means something."

Aunt Peg told me she should go to work and clean up the ground-room, and
if father had any old "chunks of wood he could spare, Plint could come
over and get 'em, and when that new nigger came, there'd be a prospect
awaitin'."

I carried t