“My Aunt Tabby Van Beekman.”

“Where is she?”

“In Trinity churchyard.  It’s too late to expostulate with her, you see.  Besides, it wouldn’t have done any good when she was alive.”

The Tracer knitted his brows, musing, the points of his slim fingers joined.

“She was very proud, very autocratic,” said Carden.  “I am the last of my race and my aunt was determined that the race should not die out with me.  I don’t want to marry and increase, but she’s trying to make me.  At all events, I am not going to marry any woman inferior to the type I have created with my pencil—­what the public calls the ‘Carden Girl.’  And now you see that your discovery of this living type comes rather late.  In two days I must be legally married if I want my Aunt Tabby’s legacy; and to-day for the first time I hear of a girl who, you assure me, compares favorably to my copyrighted type, but who has a mission and an aversion to men.  So you see, Mr. Keen, that the matter is perfectly hopeless.”

“I don’t see anything of the kind,” said Mr. Keen firmly.

“What?—­do you believe there is any chance—­”

“Of your falling in love within the next hour or so?  Yes, I do.  I think there is every chance of it.  I am sure of it.  But that is not the difficulty.  The problem is far more complicated.”

“You mean—­”

“Exactly; how to marry that girl before day after to-morrow.  That’s the problem, Mr. Carden!—­not whether you are capable of falling in love with her.  I have seen her; I know you can’t avoid falling in love with her.  Nobody could.  I myself am on the verge of it; and I am fifty:  you can’t avoid loving her.”

“If that were so,” said Carden gravely; “if I were really going to fall in love with her—­I would not care a rap about my Aunt Tabby and her money—­”

“You ought to care about it for this young girl’s sake.  That legacy is virtually hers, not yours.  She has a right to it.  No man can ever give enough to the woman he loves; no man has ever done so.  What she gives and what he gives are never a fair exchange.  If you can balance the account in any measure, it is your duty to do it.  Mr. Carden, if she comes to love you she may think it very fine that you bring to her your love, yourself, your fame, your talents, your success, your position, your gratifying income.  But I tell you it’s not enough to balance the account.  It is never enough—­no, not all your devotion to her included!  You can never balance the account on earth—­all you can do is to try to balance it materially and spiritually.  Therefore I say, endow her with all your earthly goods.  Give all you can in every way to lighten as much as possible man’s hopeless debt to all women who have ever loved.”

“You talk about it as though I were already committed,” said Carden, astonished.

“You are, morally.  For a month I have, without her knowledge, it is true, invaded the privacy of a very lovely young girl—­studied her minutely, possessed myself of her history, informed myself of her habits.  What excuse had I for this unless I desired her happiness and yours?  Nobody could offer me any inducement to engage in such a practice unless I believed that the means might justify a moral conclusion.  And the moral conclusion of this investigation is your marriage to her.”