have formed a hopeless affection."

As von Horn spoke the expression on the young man's
face became more and more hopeless, and when he had
ceased he dropped his head into his open palms, sitting
quiet and motionless as a carven statue. No sob shook
his great frame, there was no outward indication of the
terrible grief that racked him inwardly--only in the
pose was utter dejection and hopelessness.

The older man could not repress a cold smile--it had
had more effect than he had hoped.

"Don't take it too hard, my boy," he continued.
"The world is wide. It would be easy to find a thousand
places where your antecedents would be neither known
nor questioned. You might be very happy elsewhere and
there a hundred thousand girls as beautiful and sweet
as Virginia Maxon--remember that you have never seen
another, so you can scarcely judge."

"Why did he ever bring me into the world?" exclaimed
the young man suddenly. "It was wicked--wicked--
terribly cruel and wicked."

"I agree with you," said von Horn quickly, seeing
another possibility that would make his future plans
immeasurably easier. "It was wicked, and it is still
more wicked to continue the work and bring still other
unfortunate creatures into the world to be the butt