younger wept; and Mildred turned away to hide the
emotion distorting her face; and Frank stared gloomily
at the carpet and sighed. The hideous secret of the
life of duplicity was safe, safe forever.

In fact, Henry Gower had often thought of the fate
of his family if he should die. In the first year of
his married life, at a time when passion for a beautiful
bride was almost sweeping him into generous thought,
he had listened for upward of an hour to the eloquence
of a life insurance agent. Then the agent, misled by
Gower's effusively generous and unselfish expressions,
had taken a false tack. He had descanted upon the
supreme satisfaction that would be felt by a dying man
as he reflected how his young widow would be left in
affluence. He made a vivid picture; Gower saw--
saw his bride happier after his death than she had been
during his life, and attracting a swarm of admirers
by her beauty, well set off in becoming black, and by
her independent income. The generous impulse then
and there shriveled to its weak and shallow roots. With
tears in his kind, clear eyes he thanked the agent and
said:

``You have convinced me. You need say no more.
I'll send for you in a few days.''

The agent never got into his presence again.
Gower lived up to his income, secure in the knowledge
that his ability as a lawyer made him certain of plenty