er own hesitating indirection, that whatever he
wanted--money, or position, or the love of woman--he went straight to his
object with unconsciousness that failure was possible. Even in walking
across the grounds in the soft sunset light, and chatting easily, their
relations seemed established on a most natural basis, and Margaret found
herself giving way to the simple enjoyment of the hour. She was not only
happy, but her spirits rose to inexpressible gayety, which ran into the
humor of badinage and a sort of spiritual elation, in which all things
seemed possible. Perhaps she recognized in herself, what Henderson saw in
her. And with it all there was an access of tenderness for her aunt, the
dear thing whose gentle life appeared so colorless.

I had never seen Margaret so radiant as at the dinner; her high spirits
infected the table, and the listening and the talking were of the best
that the company could give. I remembered it afterwards, not from
anything special that was said, but from its flow of high animal spirits,
and the electric responsive mood everyone was in; no topic carried too
far, and the chance seriousness setting off the sparkling comments on
affairs. Henderson's talk had the notable flavor of direct contact with
life, and very little of the speculative and reflective tone of Morgan's,
who was always generalizing and theorizing about it. He had just come
from the West, and his off-hand sketches of men had a special cynicism,
not in the least condemnatory, mere good-natured acceptance, and in
contrast to Morgan's moralizing and rather pitying cynicism. It struck me
that he did not believe in his fellows as much as Morgan did; but I
fancied that Margaret only saw in his attitude a tolerant knowledge of
the world.

"Are the people on the border as bad as they are represented?" she asked.

"Certainly not much worse than they represent themselves," he replied; "I
suppose the difference is that men feel less restraint there."

"It is something more than that," added Morgan. "There is a sort of
drift-wood of adventure and devil-may-care-ism that civilization throws
in advance of itself; but that isn't so bad as the slag it manufactures
in the cities."

"I remember you said, Mr. Morgan, that men go West to get rid of their
past," said Margaret.

"As New Yorkers go to Europe to get rid of their future?" Henderson
inquired, catching the phrase.

"Yes"--Morgan turned to Margaret--"doubtless there is a satis