ally, to
leave it to him. If he wanted her back, she would go; if he preferred
his freedom, she would give it to him. And, of course, he wanted her,
and he had the right."

"So she went."

"So she went, and it was all over, and we shall never see each other
again."

"It's too bad," said Rosemary, icily. "I'm sorry for you both."

"Listen dear," he pleaded. His face was working piteously now. "I wish I
could make you understand. I loved her, and I love her still. I shall
love her as long as I live, and perhaps even after I'm dead. And she
loves me. But, because of it, in some strange way that I don't
comprehend myself, I seem to have more love to give others.

[Sidenote: He States His Case]

"I care more for my mother because I love--Edith, and, queer as you may
think it, I care more for you. She has taken nothing away from you that
I ever gave you--you are dearer to me to-day than when I first asked you
to marry me, so long ago. I don't suppose you'll believe it, but it's
the truth."

"I believe what you tell me," Rosemary said, in a different tone, "but I
don't understand it."

"It's like this, Rosemary. My loving her has been like opening the door
into the House of Life. It's made everything different for me. It's made
me want to make the best of myself, to do things for people, to be kind
to everybody. It isn't selfishness--it's unselfishness.

"I told you once that I wanted to take you away from all that misery,
and to make you happy. It was true then, and it's true now, but, at that
time, I was bound in shallows and didn't know it. She came into my life
like an overwhelming flood, and swept me out to sea. Now I'm back in the
current again, but I shall know the shallows no more--thank God!

"If you'll believe me, I have more to give than I had then--and I want
you more. I'm very lonely, Rosemary, and shall be always, unless--but,
no, I don't want your pity; I want your love."

[Sidenote: A Philanthropic Scheme]

There was a long pause, then Rosemary spoke. "Service," she said, half
to herself, "and sacrifice. Giving, not receiving. Asking, not answer."

"Yes," returned Alden, with a sigh, "it's all of that.

"Leaving love aside," he went on, after a little, "I believe you'd be
happier here, with mother and me, than you are where you are now. You'd
be set free from all that drudgery, you could help me in my work, and,
though I'm not rich, I could give you a few of the pretty things you've
always wan