“_Dearest, I have a house._ Are you angry that I am so rich? Part of an inheritance. But now it must be sold. This is from my lawyer. He tells me that I must sign the deed both with my proper maiden name and as your wife”—she stooped there to kiss him, and repeated the word—“and you must join in it as my husband. It is a bore to own a house, isn’t it, dearest?” But her lightness found him full of terror. She heard him breathe: “What was your maiden name?” “Ruth Fenton,” smiled his wife. Again that exclamation. “What is it?” she begged. “No,” he said. “There must be no secret between chums. My punishment has come. And it is greater than I could possibly have conceived. I must read you this, and then if you wish—go away from you.” “Not while I am here,” she laughed, beginning to understand. “Whither thou goest, I will go. You can’t—cannot lose me—me, your lawful wife!” Though she laughed with tremendous happiness, he read the letter through with no abatement of his terror. “As you know, I have been all these two years finding the person who shot you. At last I have her—yes, _her_! It is a woman. Her name is Ruth Fenton. Her large fortune has been exhausted by your world-renowned extravagances, and she is now selling the last thing she owns—her house. I hope you feel as mean as I do—for you! GAST.” “Yes, I am the old man,” laughed Ravant’s happy wife into her husband’s face. “Yes,” he said, and then again, “yes—you are—the—old—man! The old man! You! Me!” “_We!_” cooed his wife. “All those things I said about him were about you! _To_ you!” “_Yes!_ Wasn’t it funny?” A long time they sat there, she looking up, he down—eye to eye. But she never ceased to smile. He tried to go. “Not while I am here!” she laughed, and, slipping down, held him by the knees. “No, beloved, after this there shall be, indeed, no secrets between us. I was so unhappy and alone that night that I meant to kill myself. No one cared for me, and I _had_ to have some one care for me or die! My hand must have slipped, or, perhaps, I grew afraid. But God himself directed that bullet! You were mine and you were passing—going away from me! If you had gone on, we would never have met. It was the only way to stop you and give you to me, me to you. I went to the hospital and paid to nurse you. They said you needed no nursing, only care and quiet. And when they knew how important it was to me, for I told them all, they broke their rules all to pieces, and let me do it. And, now, dear one, you must keep what I have given you, what the good God has! You _shall_ keep it!” (as he tried to dislodge her) “and you shall keep _me_! For I will _not_ go! There, I am a beggar!” She laughed gloriously. “But the happiest beggar on earth, and you have got to support your happy beggar wife forever hereafter. That is to be your punishment.” “Happy punishment!” was the thought which flashed through Ravant.