why she led him on to an offer of matrimony, and
named the day and place. Miss Phillips had paid him up in one way; the
widow chose another method, which was more in accordance with her own
genius. All this time she had come to a full understanding with the
chaplain, and the day which she had named to Jack was the very one on
which her real marriage was to come off. I never could find out whether
the chaplain knew about it or not. I rather think he did not. If he had
known, he would have dropped a hint to Jack. He was such a confoundedly
good-hearted sort of a fellow, that he would have interposed to prevent
the success of the plan. As it was, it was carried out perfectly.

After all, she wasn't a bad little thing. She knew about Jack's
devotion to Louie, and thought that her little plot, while it gratified
her own feelings, would not in any way interfere with Jack's happiness.
And it didn't. For, ever since then, Jack has never ceased to declare
that the widow, as he still called her, was--a brick--a trump--a
glorious lot--and every other name that has ever been invented to
express whatever is noble, excellent, or admirable in human nature.

The next morning Jack came bursting into my room. One look at him was
enough. Jack was himself again. He poured forth a long, a vehement, and
a very incoherent account of his proceedings. I can only give the
general facts.

He had driven at once to Colonel Berton's. He had dashed into the house
and asked for Louie. After a while Louie came down. He didn't say a
word to her, but caught her in his arms. She didn't resist. Perhaps she
had seen in his face, at one glance, that he was free. It was a long
time before the absurd fellow could tell her what had happened. At
length he managed to got it all out. He must have acted like a madman,
but, as all lovers are more or less mad, his behavior may not have
seemed very unnatural to Louie. The poor little girl bad been moping
ever since her last interview with Jack; every day had made it worse
for her; and Jack assured me that, if he hadn't turned up at that
particular hour on that particular day, she would have taken to her
bed, and never risen from it again. But as it was Jack's inveterate
habit to doom to death all the ladies who had cherished a tender
passion in his behalf, the assertion may not be absolutely true. Louie
might possibly have rallied from the blow, and regained the joy and
buoyancy of her old life; yet, however that ma