The girl lifted her head. "You dare ask that after what happened the other night?" "God knows how I regret that awful mistake," he replied earnestly. "But you know I was not myself. I am no worse than other men, and--" He hesitated--"you must remember that it was through you that I drank too much. I could not refuse when you gave me the glass. I never was intoxicated before. Won't you forgive me this once and let me devote my life to righting the wrong?" Amy's eyes fell. The seeming justice and truth of his words impressed her. Again the man saw his advantage and talked to her of the life his wealth would help her to live. She would be free from every care. They would travel abroad until her father had forgotten his wrath, and could she doubt that all would be well when she returned as his wife? Amy hesitated, and again he pointed out the awful danger of her trying to live alone. As he talked, the girl's utter helplessness overcame her, and rising to her feet she faltered, "Give me time to think; I will come to you here in an hour." When she returned she said: "Mr. Whitley, I will marry you; but my people must not know until later." Whitley started toward her eagerly, but she stepped back. "Not now. Wait. We will go east on the evening train and will take every precaution to hide our course. We will travel in separate cars as strangers, and while stopping at hotels will register under assumed names, and will not even recognize each other. When we reach New York, I will become your wife." Whitley could scarcely conceal his triumph; that she should so fully play into his hand was to him the greatest good luck. With every expression of love he agreed to everything; but when he would embrace her she put him away--"Not until we are married;" and lie was compelled to be satisfied. For a while longer they talked, completing their plans. Then drawing out his pocket-book he said: "By-the-way, you will need money." But she shook her head: "Not until I have the right. Here are my jewels; sell them for me." He protested and laughed at her scruples. But she insisted. And at last, he took the valuables and left the hotel. Going to a bank where he was known, he drew a large sum of money, and returning, placed a roll of bills in her hand. Thinking that it was the price of her rings, she accepted it without the slightest question. That night, he bought a ticket for Chicago, over the Wabash from St. Louis, taking a chair car, while she purchased one for a little town on the Alton, and traveled in a sleeper. But at St. Louis, they remained two days, stopping at a hotel agreed upon, but as strangers. Then they again took tickets for different stations, over another road, but stopped at Detroit. It was here that Amy's suspicions were aroused.