It was indeed true that Ruth Patton had found employment at ten dollars a week. Her services were scarcely worth that sum to her employer, but Alfred Lindsay was not only rich but generous, and was glad to believe Ruth's anxiety by insuring her a comfortable income. She was still at Mrs. Fenton's rooms, being now able to contribute her share of the expense incurred. The widow was willing to accept only three dollars per week, so that Ruth had the satisfaction of sending a weekly remittance to her mother. She was very grateful for the change in her circumstances, and, notwithstanding the disappointment about her father's estate, felt that there was reason to hope.

Two days later Alfred Lindsay found a letter upon his desk addressed in a delicate female hand which he did not recognize.

"A lady client!" he thought. "What does she want—a divorce?"

When he opened the envelope he read the following note, written on a highly perfumed sheet:

MY DEAR MR. LINDSAY: Pray don't be shocked at my boldness in writing you, but it is so long since you have called that papa suggests sickness as a possible cause. I do hope that this is not what has kept you away. I confess that I have missed you very much. I have so enjoyed our conversations. You are not like the fashionable butterflies of whom we meet so many in society. One must tolerate them, of course but it is a comfort to meet a man who can talk intelligently about books and art. Apropos, I have a new collection of etchings that I want to show you. Won't you name an evening when you will call, as I want to be certain to be at home when you really do come. I should be desolated, as the French say, to be absent.

Now don't fail to answer this screed. Otherwise I shall certainly manage to have some law business that will give me an excuse for calling at your office.

Alfred Lindsay read this note slowly, and there was a smile upon his face, for he fully appreciated Luella's motive in writing it. A fortnight since he would have been charmed, but his feelings with respect to Miss Ferguson had undergone a change. The revelation of her real character had shocked him, and served effectually to kill his growing attachment. Beauty of face could not make up for deformity of character. On the other hand, he was beginning to be attracted by Ruth. She lacked Luella's regular features and cold, classic beauty, but her sweet face revealed a disposition warm, kindly, and sympathetic; and when her deep, serious eyes rested upon him, he felt that she was far more attractive than her showy rival.

"What shall I do?" he asked himself as his eyes fell upon the note. He must of course answer it, but should he accept the invitation? Upon the whole he decided to do so. There was no reason which he could allege for declining, and, though it would be to sacrifice an evening, he would go armed against Luella's fascinations by the knowledge he had acquired. He drew out a sheet of paper from a drawer in his desk, and wrote as follows:

MY DEAR MISS FERGUSON: As I am writing in my office, you will understand and excuse the unfashionable business paper which I am using. I am flattered to find that you miss me, and still more at the reason you assign for preferring my company to that of the gilded young men who worship at your shrine. I am but "a plain, blunt man," as Shakspeare has it, and cannot vie with them in compliment. I shall no doubt find pleasure in examining the etchings which you hold out as an inducement to call. I will name Thursday evening, but should you have a previous engagement, don't scruple to notify me, as I can easily postpone my visit to another date.

Luella Ferguson read this note with mingled pleasure and disappointment.

"It is very cold," she murmured, "almost as if I were an ordinary acquaintance. I suppose men feel hampered when they try to express themselves upon paper. I will not believe that he is less friendly, or admires me less than he used to do. At any rate he is coming, and I must make myself as fascinating as possible. I have a chance to win him, and I mean to do it."

"Papa," said Luella on Thursday morning, "Mr. Lindsay will call here this evening."

"I am glad to hear it, Luella. I hope he is coming—on business."

"I don't know," she answered demurely.

"You know my wishes on the subject?"

"They accord with mine, papa."

When Alfred Lindsay was announced, he found Luella resplendent in a new dress, and bedecked with jewels. She intentionally made herself as attractive as possible.

"Really. Miss Ferguson, you are radiant tonight," he said.

"Do you think so?" she asked.

"There is no doubt of it. Are you expecting other company?"

"Only yourself."

"Then I am to consider it a special compliment to me."

"If you like."

"Then I must express my acknowledgments."

Yet as he spoke, his thoughts reverted to Ruth Patton, with her lack of ornament and severe simplicity, and he felt that her image was to him the more attractive of the two. It was fortunate for Miss Ferguson's peace of mind that she could not read his thoughts.

"Now, you bad boy," she said playfully, "you must tell me why you have stayed away so long."

"Perhaps to see if you would miss me."

"I have missed you so much."

"That is certainly a compliment to me as a conversationalist, As you wrote in your note you appreciate my sensible conversation I am afraid you overestimate me. I have a friend who is really brilliant, and can converse eloquently upon any subject. May I bring him with me?"

"Who is he?" asked Luella hesitatingly.

"Professor Grimes."

"What, the lecturer?"

"Yes."

"Why. he is grotesque in appearance. I heard him lecture once, and thought he wore a mask, so ugly was his face."

"You admit his eloquence, however?"

"Yes; but from such a mouth even pearls cease to attract. Pray don't bring him! He positively makes me shudder, I assure you."

Luella did not like the turn the conversation had taken. There seemed no chance for sentiment, and she wanted to bring all her fascinations to bear.

"You have some etchings to show me; Miss Ferguson?" said Lindsay, after a pause.

"Yes; but I want to show them to you myself. You will have to come and sit beside me."

"Willingly," answered Alfred, but his tone was conventional, and lacked the warmth it had formerly shown.

Together they looked over the collection. Luella saw, however, to her mortification, that Lindsay was calm and cold. It seemed clear that she had lost her power over him. What could be the reason?

"Can it be that girl, Ruth Patton?" she asked herself. "Is it she who is drawing Alfred Lindsay away from me? I must warn him against her."

"By the way, haven't you a copyist in your office named Ruth Patton?"

"How did you know?" asked Lindsay.

"I met her the other day on Broadway. Perhaps you don't know, but she is an humble protegee of my father's."

"A protegee?"

"Yes; papa has been very kind to the family. He took charge of their affairs on the death of her father, and, though there was not enough property to pay the debts, he paid them all, and sent a check to Mrs. Patton besides."

"That was certainly considerate!" said Lindsay; but from his tone it could not be discovered if he were speaking in earnest or ironically.

"As you say, it was considerate, but this Ruth is very ungrateful. She was actually ridiculous enough to think they ought to have had a fortune, and I believe blames papa for the way things have come out."

Alfred Lindsay listened politely, but did not express an opinion.

"She is a very good copyist," he said.

"I am glad she is earning a living, though I think it would have been better for her to remain in the country, don't you?"

"Really, I can't judge for others, not knowing all the circumstances."

"The girl is ill bred, I am sorry to say. She treated me rudely in the cars."

"She gives me no cause of complaint," said Lindsay shortly. He understood and despised Luella's attempts to prejudice him against the copyist.

When he rose to go, Luella was disappointed. She felt that she had brought him no nearer, and had not strengthened her hold upon him.

As the young lawyer descended the steps he met a man coming up whom he recognized as a dealer in worthless mining stock, who was looked upon by reputable business men with doubt and suspicion.

"What business can Orlando Jenkins have with Mr. Ferguson?" he asked himself.