y married if I want my Aunt Tabby's
legacy; and to-day for the first time I hear of a girl who, you assure
me, compares favorably to my copyrighted type, but who has a mission and
an aversion to men. So you see, Mr. Keen, that the matter is perfectly
hopeless."

"I don't see anything of the kind," said Mr. Keen firmly.

"What?--do you believe there is any chance--"

"Of your falling in love within the next hour or so? Yes, I do. I think
there is every chance of it. I am sure of it. But that is not the
difficulty. The problem is far more complicated."

"You mean--"

"_Ex_actly; how to marry that girl before day after to-morrow. That's
the problem, Mr. Carden!--not whether you are capable of falling in
love with her. I have seen her; I _know_ you can't avoid falling in
love with her. Nobody could. I myself am on the verge of it; and I am
fifty: you can't avoid loving her."

"If that were so," said Carden gravely; "if I were really going to fall
in love with her--I would not care a rap about my Aunt Tabby and her
money--"

"You ought to care about it for this young girl's sake. That legacy is
virtually hers, not yours. She has a right to it. No man can ever give
enough to the woman he loves; no man has ever done so. What _she_ gives
and what _he_ gives are never a fair exchange. If you can balance the
account in any measure, it is your duty to do it. Mr. Carden, if she
comes to love you she may think it very fine that you bring to her your
love, yourself, your fame, your talents, your success, your position,
your gratifying income. But I tell you it's not enough to balance the
account. It is never enough--no, not all your devotion to her included!
You can never balance the account on earth--all you can do is to try to
balance it materially and spiritually. Therefore I say, endow her with
_all_ your earthly goods. Give all you can in every way to lighten as
much as possible man's hopeless debt to all women who have ever loved."

"You talk about it as though I were already committed," said Carden,
astonished.

"You are, morally. For a month I have, without her knowledge, it is
true, invaded the privacy of a very lovely young girl--studied her
minutely, possessed myself of her history, informed myself of her
habits. What excuse had I for this unless I desired her happiness and
yours? Nobody could offer me any inducement to engage in such a practice
unless I believed that the means might justify a moral conclusion.