She thought she had never seen Joe looked so manly, as when he walked up to the house, and her heart seemed cold to think that it may have been the smiles of some rival that brought this look of pleasure to his face. Thus a man may feel mean, and at the same time appear joyous. When Joe entered the house he saw a light back in the library. Straight in that direction he walked. Lillian was seated there apparently reading—how was he to know she had hastily flown hither from her lookout? Joe softly closed the door. Another minute and he stood before his wife. “Lillian, my wife, look up.” Somewhat startled, she did so. “Why, Joe!” “I want you to know what a base man you have for a husband, Lillian.” “You mean—” she gasped. “That I have a confession to make, and I am determined to make it now.” “A confession, Joseph—” and the little woman gained her feet. Her face was white with a sudden fear—she even believed Joe was about to tell her some terrible truth—that he had never loved her—perhaps had been married ere he knew her. At any rate she was dreadfully alarmed. “Yes, I have been a villain to treat the best little woman in all the world so, but this old love was with me long before I knew you—it had become a part of my very life. I never knew how strong it was until lately. God knows I have tried to shake it off, and be faithful to my promise, but I am weak. I have sinned, Lillian, my wife, and I stand here humbly to ask if you can ever forgive me.” He stood there with bowed head, proud even in his humility. “But oh, Joe, to think—that woman—” and she burst into a torrent of tears. He seized her hands and took them down from her face. “Good heavens, Lillian, I forgot that you believed that. It is no woman—I have never been unfaithful to you in word or deed—that was not I whom Darrell saw at the _bal masque_ last night, dear. I am yours, wretched man that I am, but yours alone, always.” “But what—I don’t understand—you say you have sinned and yet that you are innocent. Oh, Joe, please tell me everything.” “I would be a base wretch if I did not. Do you remember making me give a promise before we were married, Lillian?” “Not about your cigars, Joe?” “That’s it,” eagerly; “and for a time I suffered terrible torments in keeping it to the letter; but after a while the devil tempted me. He said, ‘You promised to give up cigars—nothing was said about your pipe.’ Lillian, like a weak fool I gave in, and daily almost, for months, I have gone to the house I own in Twenty-seventh Street, changed my clothes and enjoyed half an hour’s smoke. “It was a cruel deception on you, and I have felt like a sneak in doing it. Thanks to Darrell my eyes have been opened and I am here to confess all, asking forgiveness.” Lillian could hardly believe her ears—she turned a face illumined upon her husband. “Joe, dear Joe, is this your dreadful secret?” “It is,” solemnly. “You are sure you have told me everything?”