It proved a restless day, and a suf
ficiently unpleasant one, for Mr. Hamp
ton. For a number of years he had
been diligently training himself in the
school of cynicism, endeavoring to per
suade himself that he did not in the
least care what others thought, nor
how his own career ended impelling
himself to constant recklessness in life
and thought. He had thus successfully
built up a wall between the present
and that past which long haunted his
lonely moments, and had finally de
cided that it was hermetically sealed.
Yet now. this odd chit of a girl, this
waif whom he had plucked from the
jaws of death, had overturned this
carefully constructed barrier as if it
had been originally built of mere card
board, and he was compelled again to
see himself, loathe himself, just as he
had in those past years.
One thing he grasped clearly,—the
girl should be given her chance noth
ing in his life must ever again soil her
or lower her ideals. Mrs. Herndon
was right, and he realized it neither
his presence nor his money were fit to
Influence her future. He swore be
tween his clinched teeth, his face
grown haggard. The sun's rays bridged
the slowly darkening valley with cords
of red gold, and the man pulled him
self to his feet by gripping the root
of a tree. He realized that he had
been sitting there for hours, and that
he was hungry.
