it would not profit to produce the remarks of robert van rensselaer upon reading the note. possibly the reader had imagined that he was through with mrs. lynch; certainly, at any rate, mr. van rensselaer had imagined it. but one of the disadvantages about some of the pleasant things of life is this fact that, when we wish to forget them, they are not always willing to forget us.

who had written the letter and what was the purpose of it was a problem which our hero pondered for many hours,—hours which he spent either in pacing up and down the room, or in sitting motionless in a chair, with hands clenched and eyes fixed upon vacancy.

when finally he came to a decision, it was evidently a desperate one, for his brow was black and his eyes shone. he strode[99] out of the room, and a moment or so later was whirling up town in a cab. before long he got out and walked, and when the cab had disappeared, he called another, and entering that drove to the residence of mary harrison.

she was clad in a pink silk gown, and her cheeks were bright with happiness; she was so altogether wonderful that robert van rensselaer's frown half melted, in spite of himself, as he walked into the room. the frown did not go so fast, however, that she failed to note it.

"what's the matter?" she cried.

and his frown came back again. "mary," he said abruptly, "we've got to part."

the girl gave a start. "what do you mean?" she cried.

"i mean just what i say," he answered. "we've got to part." and then seeing the ghastly pallor that came over her, he drew her to him and went and sat down on the sofa. "listen to me, mary," he said more gently; "you're a good girl, and i have no fear to tell you the whole truth.[100] i know that you have nothing to do with it; but i've gotten into serious trouble, and there is only one way in the world to save myself."

"what do you mean, jim?" she panted. (jim was the name she had been taught to call him.)

"mary," said he, "you know that i'm a married man, don't you?"

"yes," she said, "but what—"

"and that i'm a very rich man? well, mrs. lynch has set to work to blackmail me."

the girl shrunk back. "you—what!" she panted.

"it's true," said he; "i've had to pay her several thousand dollars already."

"good heavens!" cried the girl. "it can't be so!"

"it is," replied he. "and it means only one thing,—that we've got to part forever."