So she immediately inquired her way to the telegraph office, and even quickened her steps into as fast a walk as she ever permitted herself.  The message she had to send was a peculiar and not a pleasant one.  At first she thought it would hardly be possible for her to frame it in such words as she would care to dictate to strangers; but she firmly settled on the following form: 

“Messrs. Locke & Lord: 

“Tell brother Edward that Bloom is in Denver.  No delay.  The matter is of the greatest importance.”

When she had dictated the message, the clerk said, “Two dollars, madam.”  But greatly to Eleanor’s annoyance her purse was not in her pocket, and she could not remember whether she had put it there or not.  The man stood looking at her in an expectant way; she felt that any delay about the message might be fatal to its worth; perplexity and uncertainty ruled her absolutely.  She was about to explain her dilemma, and return to her hotel for money, when a gentleman, who had heard and watched the whole proceeding, said: 

“Madam, I perceive that time is of great importance to you, and that you have lost your purse; allow me to pay for the message.  You can return the money if you wish.  My name is William Smith.  I am staying at the ‘American.’”

“Thank you, sir.  The message is of the gravest importance to my brother.  I gratefully accept your offer.”

Further knowledge proved Mr. William Smith to be a New York capitalist who was slightly known to three of the gentlemen in Eleanor’s party; so that the acquaintance began so informally was very speedily afterward inaugurated with all the forms and ceremonies good society demands.  It was soon possible, too, for Eleanor to explain the circumstances which, even in her code of strict etiquette, made a stranger’s offer of money for the hour a thing to be gratefully accepted.  She had seen in the door of the post-office a runaway cashier of her brother’s, and his speedy arrest involved a matter of at least forty thousand dollars.

This Mr. William Smith was a totally different man to Eleanor’s last lover—­a bright, energetic, alert business man, decidedly handsome and gentlemanly.  Though his name was greatly against him in Eleanor’s prejudices, she found herself quite unable to resist the cheery, pleasant influence he carried with him.  And it was evident from the very first day of their acquaintance that Mr. William Smith had but one thought—­the winning of Eleanor Bethune.

When she returned to New York in the autumn she ventured to cast up her accounts with life, and she was rather amazed at the result.  For she was quite aware that she was in love with this William Smith in a way that she had never been with the other.  The first had been a sentimental ideal; the second was a genuine case of sincere and passionate affection.  She felt that the desertion of this lover would be a grief far beyond the power of satin and lace to cure.