ked.

Without a word Arthur took from his pocket Thursa's telegram. His
hand trembled, and he had a queer, dizzy feeling as he did it, but he
put it safely in the other man's hand.

Away across the sea, in the Rectory of St. Agnes, a gray-haired
father and mother were praying for their boy so far away, and their
prayer for him that day was not that he might have wealth, or ease,
or fame, or the praise of men, nor that he might always gain his
heart's desire--not that at all; they asked for him a greater gift
still--that he might always walk in honour's ways.

Jack Smeaton's face was illumined with joy as he read Thursa's
telegram.

"Did she send me this? Where is she? I want to see her--who are you?"
he asked, all in one breath.

Something in Arthur's face told him who he was. "You are Arthur," he
said gently.

Arthur nodded.

The two young men stood looking at each other, but for a full minute
neither spoke.

"I have only one question to ask you, Mr. Smeaton," Arthur said at
last. "Do you love her?"

"I do," the other man replied, "as God hears me." And Arthur, looking
into his clear gray eyes, believed him, and his last hope vanished.

"I feel like a miserable sneak in your presence," Jack Smeaton said
humbly. "Upon my word, that enchanting little beauty turned my brain.
Isn't she the most bewitching little girl in all the world?"

"I have always thought so," Arthur said quietly. "I have behaved
badly to you, Mr.----"

"Wemyss," Arthur said.

"Mr. Wemyss, and I humbly apologize."

"It is not necessary," Arthur said, with an effort. "Her happiness is
the only thing to be considered. She was only a child when she gave
me her promise, only seventeen, and I can see now that she would not
be happy with me."

"Come with me now, Mr. Wemyss. I want you to meet my people. They
will be glad to have you stay for dinner."

"Thank you," Arthur said, trying hard to speak naturally. "I would
rather not."

"I shall go back with you to-morrow, if I may," Mr. Smeaton said. "I
cannot just say to you all that is in my heart, but you have taught
me a lesson on what it is to be a gentleman."

He held out his hand, which Arthur took without hesitation, and they
parted.

That night as Jack Smeaton was selecting a pearl necklace for Thursa,
along with all sorts of other beautiful gifts, he was pondering
deeply one thought--that perhaps, after all, successive generations
of gentle breeding do count for something in