their careers were safe--and meantime, if they felt the need, they
satisfied their passions with the daughters of the poor. And it was
for some such "eligible man" as this that the world had been
preparing Corydon; it was to save her for his coming that her
sheltered life had been intended. Her beauty and tenderness would
appeal to him, her innocence would bring a new thrill to his jaded
passions; and when he offered his hand, there would be no whisper of
what his past might have been, there would be no questions asked as
to any vices or diseases he might bring with him. There would be
trousseaus and flowers and wedding-cake, rice and white ribbons
and a honeymoon-journey; and then an apartment in the city, or
perhaps even a whole house, with a butler and a carriage--who could
tell? With wealth pouring into the metropolis from North and West
and South, such things fell often to beautiful and innocent maidens
in sheltered homes.

And here was this one, flinging herself away upon a penniless poet
who could not support her, and did not even propose to try! "Does he
mean to get some work?" was the question; and gently Corydon
explained that they intended "to live as brother and sister." And
that capped the climax--that proved stark, raving madness, if it did
not prove downright knavery and fraud.

In the end, being utterly baffled and helpless with dismay, the
mothers turned upon each other; for to each of them, the virtues of
her own offspring being so apparent, it was clear that this hideous
tragedy must have come from the machinations of the other. One day
Thyrsis and his mother, walking down a road, met Corydon and her
mother, upon a high hill where the winds blew wildly; and here they
poured out their grief, and hurled their impeachments against the