I think, if she had let me, I would have dared my father’s displeasure and been disobedient to his wishes by giving her one wholesome meal.  But she was as resolute of mind as he, and, as she said afterwards, had chosen her course in life and must abide by it.  My love she would accept.  It took nothing from Father and gave her what her heart was pining for—­had pined for for years.  But nothing more—­not another thing more.  She would not even let me go home with her; and I knew why when her eyes fell at the searching look I gave her.  Something would turn up, and when her husband’s health was better and she had found another position she would send me her address and then I could come and see her.  As we walked out of the restaurant we ran against a gentleman I knew.  He stopped me for a passing word and in that minute she disappeared.  I did not try to follow her.  I could get her street and number from the store where she had worked.

But when I had done this and embraced the first opportunity which offered to visit her, I found that she had moved away in the interim, leaving everything behind in payment of her rent, except such small things as she and her husband could carry.  This was discouraging as it left me without any clue by which to follow them.  But I was determined not to yield to her desire for concealment in the difficult and disheartening task I now saw before me.

Seeking advice from the man who has since become my employer, I entered upon this second search with a quiet resolution which admitted of no defeat.  It took me six months, but I finally found her, and satisfied with knowing where she was, desisted from rushing in upon her, till I had caught one glimpse of her husband whom, in the last six months, I had heard described but had never seen.  To understand her, it was perhaps necessary to understand him, and if I could not hope to do this offhand, I could not fail to get some idea of the man from even the most casual look.

He was, as I soon learned, the fetcher and carrier of the small ménage; and the day came when I met him face to face in the street where they lived.  Did he disappoint me; or did I see something in his appearance to justify her desertion of her father’s home and her present life of poverty?  If I say Yes to the first question, I must also say it to the last.  If handsome once, he was not handsome now; but with a personality such as his, this did not matter.  He had that better thing—­that greatest gift of the gods—­charm.  It was in his bearing, his movement, the regard of his weary eye; more than that it was in his very nature or it would have vanished long ago under disappointment and privation.

But that was all there was to the man,—­a golden net in which my sister’s youthful fancy had been caught and no doubt held meshed to this very day.  I felt less like blaming her for her folly, after that instant’s view of him as we passed each other in the street.  But, as I took time to think, I found myself growing sorrier and sorrier for her and yet, in a way, gladder and gladder, for the man was a physical wreck and would soon pass out of her life leaving her to my love and possibly to our father’s forgiveness.