"Jane," he said, dropping the tone of confident authority and speaking very tenderly, "you forget that my father is a convict. You forget that he has done things which will forever keep me a beggar at your feet. I am asking YOU to forget and overlook much more than you could ever ask of me. Old Elias, wretch that he is, has pointed out our ways for us; they run together in spite of what may conspire to divide them. Jane, I love my soul, but I love you ten thousand times better than my soul." "I did not believe I could ever be so happy again," she murmured, putting her hands to his face. "To-morrow, dear?" "Yes." Graydon, rejoicing in his final victory, hurried to his rooms later in the evening. As he was about to enter the elevator he noticed a grey-suited boy in brass buttons, who stood near by, an inquiring look in his face. "This is Mr. Bansemer," observed the laconic youth who ran the single elevator in the apartment building. "Something for me?" demanded Graydon, turning to the boy in grey. "Special delivery letter, sir. Sign here." Graydon took the thick envelope from the boy's hand. With a start, he recognised his father's handwriting. Curiously he turned the letter over in his fingers as he ascended in the car, wonder growing in his brain. He did not wait to remove his overcoat on entering his rooms, but strode to the light and nervously tore open the envelope. Dread, hope, anxiety, conspired tu make his fingers tremble. There were many closely written pages. How well he remembered his father's writing! As he read, his eyes grew wide with wonder and unbelief. They raced through the pages, wonder giving way to joy and exultation as he neared the end of the astounding message from the far-away prisoner. A shout forged to his lips; he hugged the letter to his heart; tears came into his eyes, a sob broke in, his throat. "Thank God!" he cried, throwing himself into a chair to eagerly read and reread the contents of the letter. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and dashed across the room to the telephone. "She will die of joy!" he half sobbed, in the transports of exhilaration. Five minutes later he was on his way to her hotel, clutching the priceless letter in his bare fingers, deep down in his overcoat pocket. He had shouted over the 'phone that the good news would not keep till morning, and she was waiting up for him with Mr. and Mrs. Cable, consumed by curiosity. "This letter"--he gasped, as he entered the room--"from father. He's written, Jane--everything. I knew he would. Elias didn't know it all. He knew half of the truth, that's all. Good Lord, I--I can't read it, Mr. Cable. You--please."