"No, I'm not!" he protested. "I'm just a good average. A week ago my hottest ambition was to carry the Winona ball team to victory. If I had the money and the courage I'd go back there to-morrow and finish my course." "What do you mean by courage?" "Well, you know what I'd be loaded up with. To go back there now would be the devil and all. Your article broke my peaceful combination just a week ago last Sunday." "But I have undone my work. I have vindicated your mother. You have a right to be proud of her. She was as real a martyr as ever went to the stake." "I know, but I'll be a marked figure, all the same." "You were a marked figure before. But consider all explanations have been made--wait till you read my article. Go back!" she insisted. "I wish you would." Her voice was rich with pleading. "It would make me happy. I feel horribly guilty--really I do. I'm only a grubbing reporter-person--I've had to earn my way and keep house for my grandmother besides; but I'd gladly share my salary to help you return to college. Please go back--it will relieve my mind of a big burden." He took her hand in the spirit in which it was offered. "I am within a few days of graduation, but--" "Please go back--for the sake of a poor little newspaper wretch who feels that she has indirectly spoiled your career." She pressed his hand fervidly. "Promise me this and you'll take a monstrous load off my shoulders." She had the face, the temperament of the actress, and loved to experiment on the hearts of men; but she was deeply in earnest now. Bartol and Stinchfield had really changed her point of view as regards Mrs. Ollnee, and this "situation" appealed to her at the moment with irresistible power. Life was to her a drama, intense, never-ending, romantic, and at the moment she loved this splendid young man orphaned by her hand. He could not resist her caressing voice, her appealing eyes, her sensitive lips, and he said, "I promise." "Thank you," she said, and, dropping his hand, she lifted burning yet tearful eyes to his face. "You are very generous." He went on, "I am sure you meant well." "I don't want to rest under false imputations," she repeated. "I did not mean well. That first article was savage. I was angry. I struck blindly, but I struck to hurt." "Well, all that is ended," he replied, sadly. "My mother is to be buried to-day." She looked at him in silence for a moment. "I have one more request to make," she said, at last, and her voice was very soft and hesitating. "I'd like to look upon her face. I want to ask her forgiveness." His heart melted at this plea, and he turned away to hide his tears. When he could speak he said: "She is very beautiful. I cannot believe even now that she is dead; but I have given my consent to have her taken to the cemetery. I will show her to you." In silence she followed him up the stairway and into the cool, dark room where the coffin lay.