sm on that score."

"But, Champney!" She spoke with whole-hearted protest.

He nodded up at her understandingly. "I know the 'but', mother; but
that's how it stood with me. You know they were in Paris the next spring
and, of course, I saw a good deal of them--and of many others who were
dancing attendance on the heiress to the same tune that I was. But I
caught on soon, and saw all the innings were with one special man; and,
well--I didn't make a fool of myself, that's all. As you know, she was
married the autumn after your return, three years ago."

"You're sure you really didn't mind, Champney?"

He laughed out at that. "Mind! Well, rather! You see it knocked one of
my little plans higher than a kite--a plan I made the very day I decided
to accept Mr. Van Ostend's offer. Of course I minded."

"What plan?"

"Wonder if I'd better tell you, mother? I'd like to stand well in your
good graces--"

"Oh, Champney!"

"Fact, I would. Well, here goes then: I decided--I was lying up under
the pines, you know that day I didn't want to accept his offer?"--she
nodded confirmatorily--"that if I couldn't have an opportunity to get
rich quick in one way, I would in another; and, in accepting the offer,
I made up my mind to try for the sister and her millions; if successful,
I intended to take by that means a short cut to matrimony and fortune."

"Oh, Champney!"

"Young and fresh and--hardened, wasn't it, mother?"

"You were so young, so ignorant, so unused to that sort of living; you
had no realization of the difficulties of life--of love--."

She began speaking as if in apology for his weakness, but ended with the
murmured words "life--love", in a voice so tense with pain that it
sounded as if the major dominant of youth and ignorance suddenly
suffered transcription into a haunting minor.

Her son looked up at her in surprise.

"Why, mother, don't take it so hard; I assure you I didn't. It brought
me down to bed rock, for I was making a conceited ass of myself that's
all, in thinking I could have roses for fodder instead of thistles--and
just for the asking! It did me no end of good. I shall never rush in
again where even angels fear to tread except softly--I mean the male
wingless kind--worth a couple of millions; she has seven in her own
right.--But we're the best of friends."

He spoke without bitterness. His mother felt, however, at the moment,
that she would have preferred to hear a note of keen disappointment i