The world is naught when one is gone Who was the world; then the heart breaks That this is lost which once was won. ARLO BATES. But before the old gentleman called in the morning, Kathleen had a great shock of surprise. The morning papers had not had anything so exciting to chronicle for a long time as the news that Ralph Chainey, the great actor, and the idol of the hour, had been secretly married to a beautiful ballet dancer who was no better than she ought to be, and that he had publicly applied for a legal divorce to free him from his galling fetters. Of course the public had to know all about it, so the reporters had besieged Ralph Chainey, and he had talked freely with them, giving them all his sad story, hoping in this way to reach the obdurate heart of beautiful Kathleen. Surely, he thought, when she heard his story aright--when she heard how cruelly he had been betrayed by the false and wicked Fedora--she must pity and pardon her unhappy lover. Ralph Chainey was not much of a praying man, but in these hours of awful suspense his thoughts took almost the form of a prayer to God that He would help him to win his proud young love who had scorned him in such disdainful fashion. So he told the reporters his sad story in his most eloquent fashion, and they reproduced it in glowing paragraphs, denouncing Fedora in unmeasured terms for her sins and her hypocrisy, and hinting at the beautiful love affair that had been broken off by Fedora's resurrection from the grave in which her young husband believed her resting. They did not tell the name of the actor's beautiful young love, because Ralph Chainey had been very careful not to tell them; but they dwelt eloquently on the actor's love for her, and his hope that, in the event of his securing a divorce, she would become his worshiped wife. Kathleen read this moving story with heaving bosom and dilated eyes, and while she was yet reading it, the bell rang and a package was handed in for her with a letter. Ralph Chainey--forgetting, like any true lover, his pride in his love--had sent to Kathleen marked copies of the morning papers and some brief, pathetic lines. "Oh, my lost love," ran the note, "will you not read, and reading, pity and forgive me, the story of my sorrows? Oh, Kathleen! they say that you are pledged to wed another. Tell me that it is not so! My one great hope is for freedom, that I may yet have the hope of winning you. Life without that hope would be a living death. Oh, Kathleen, my love, my darling! pity me--pity yourself! You have not learned to love the man you have promised to marry. Send him from you. Wait a little, my darling, and happiness will come to us! "RALPH." "Oh, my poor boy--my poor boy!" sobbed Kathleen.