Dating from the night of Trescott's death, and therefore covering the period of Jim's absence, I could not fail to notice the renewed ardor with which Cornish devoted himself to the Trescott family. Alice and I, on our frequent visits, found him at their home so much that I was forced to the conclusion that he must have had some encouragement. During this period of their mourning his treatment of both mother and daughter was at once so solicitously friendly, and so delicate, that no one in their place could have failed to feel a sense of obligation. He sent flowers to Mrs. Trescott, and found interesting things in books and magazines for Josie. Having known him as a somewhat cold and formal man, Mrs. Trescott was greatly pleased with this new view of his character. He diverted her mind, and relieved the monotony of her grief. Cornish was a diplomat (otherwise Jim would have had no use for him in the first place), and he skilfully chose this sad and tender moment to bring about a closer intimacy than had existed between him and the afflicted family. It was clearly no affair of mine. Nevertheless, after several experiences in finding Cornish talking with Josie by the Trescott grate, I considered Jim's interests menaced. "Well," said Alice, when I mentioned this feeling, "Mr. Cornish is certainly a desirable match, and it can scarcely be expected that Josie will remain permanently unattached." There was a little resentment in her voice, for which I could see no reason, and therefore protested that, under all circumstances, it was scarcely fair to blame me for the lady's unappropriated state. "Under other conditions," said I, "I assure you that I should not permit such an anomaly to exist--if I could help it." The incident was then declared closed.