st to see her;
but that he meant to achieve such success that she would withdraw her
prohibition, and to return some day and lay at her feet the highest
honors life could give.

A woman who has discarded a man is, perhaps, nearer loving him just
afterwards than ever before. Certainly Miss Alice Yorke thought more
tenderly of Gordon Keith when she found herself being borne away from
him than she had ever done during the weeks she had known him.

It is said that a broken heart is a most valuable possession for a young
man. Perhaps, it was so to Keith.

The rest of the session dragged wearily for him. But he worked like
fury. He would succeed. He would rise. He would show Mrs. Yorke who
he was.

Mrs. Yorke, having reached home, began at once to lead her daughter back
to what she esteemed a healthier way of thinking than she had fallen
into. This opportunity came in the shape of a college commencement with
a consequent boat-race, and all the gayeties that this entailed.

Mrs. Yorke was, in her way, devoted to her daughter, and had a definite
and what she deemed an exalted ambition for her. This meant that she
should be the best-dressed girl in society, should be a belle, and
finally should make the most brilliant marriage of her set--to wit, the
wealthiest marriage. She had dreamed at times of a marriage that should
make her friends wild with envy--of a title, a high title. Alice had
beauty, style, wealth, and vivacity; she would grace a coronet, and
mamma would be "Madam, the Countess's mother." But mamma encountered an
unexpected obstacle.

When Mrs. Yorke, building her air-castles, casually let fall her idea of
a title for Alice, there was a sudden and unexpected storm from an
unlooked-for quarter. Dennis Yorke, usually putty in his wife's hands,
had two or three prejudices that were principles with him. As to these
he was rock. His daughter was his idol.

For her, from the time she had opened her blue eyes on him and blinked
at him vaguely, he had toiled and schemed until his hair had turned from
brown to gray and then had disappeared from his round, strongly set
head. For the love he bore her he had served longer than Jacob served
for Rachel, and the time had not appeared long. The suggestion that the
money he had striven for from youth to age should go to some reprobate
foreigner, to pay his gambling-debts, nearly threw him into a
convulsion. His ancestors had been driven from home to starve in the
wilderness