My Son:—­I have an apology to make and a bit of news to give you.  When I urged you to give up Lucie and to seek distraction abroad, I felt that I was doing justice to your immaturity and saving you from ties which might very easily jeopardize your future happiness.

But I have lately changed my mind.  In seeing more of her I have not only learned her worth but the advantage such a woman would be to one of your tastes and promise.  And she loves you more devotedly, perhaps, than you have loved her.  How do I know this?  Let me tell you of an interview I had with a certain relative of hers last night.  I allude to her brother, and for a recognized boss buried out of sight in politics, he has more heart in his breast than I have ever given him credit for.  Not having children of his own, he has centered his affections on this choice little sister of his, and finding her far from happy, came to see me yesterday evening with this proposition:  If I would consent to your union with Lucie, and withdraw my opposition to your immediate marriage, he would take your future in charge and put you in the way of political advancement only to be limited, as he says, by your talents, which he is good enough to rate very high.

After this, how can I do otherwise than bid you follow your impulses and marry Lucie in spite of the disparity of years to which I have hitherto taken exception.  Were she as poor as she is accounted rich, I should say the same, now that I have sounded the depths of her lovely disposition and the rare culture of a mind which those seven years have enriched beyond what is usual even in women of intellect.  Her money does not influence me in her favor, nor does it weigh with me in my present opinion of her complete fitness for the position you are so eager to give her.  That this will make you happy I know.  Let it hasten your return which cannot be too speedy.

This was the bombshell which had disturbed Carleton Roberts’ complacency, bared his own soul to his horrified view, and revealed to him the weakness of his moral nature which he had hitherto considered strong.  For his first impulse was one of recoil, not only from the secret marriage which shut him off from these new hopes, but from his youthful bride as well.  He found himself weary of his flowery bonds and eager for a man’s life in his native city.  Oh, why had he urged this immature girl to take the ride which had led him into slavery to one who could not advance him in life, however queen-like she moved and talked and smiled upon the world from the heights of her physical perfections.  It was brain that was needed—­an understanding like Lucie’s, tempered, like hers, by years, not months, of culture and refined association.

It was at this point he paused in his restless walk and looked for inspiration to the far-off waters of the bluest of all seas.

Suddenly he resumed his walk; then quickly stopping again sat down at his desk and with an air of desperate haste began a letter to his mother with the announcement: