It was clear to him to-night that impulse was the only edge at which the circles of their lives touched. Naturally, they were some alike, and under similar circumstances might have continued so. That their lots lay along entirely different paths was due only to the different environment of each. He regretted that he always acted without reason; and then, as he thought of the last night he was with her, and how far his passion had led his reason, he was thankful that Ilva left Capitol City when she did. As he looked upon the burning coals in his library grate, it occurred to him with great significance that the morrow was Thanksgiving Day, and he felt that he would like to sit alone by the fire until the midnight hour was passed, and there thank God, not for the past, but for the future which had been saved to him by the change in the current of his life. How little he had had to do with bringing it about! How circumstances seemed to have arranged it! How thankful he should be that the good influences had triumphed over the bad! But his sense of shame over the selfish thoughts he once had had, and his sense of relief in his release, were not paramount to-night to the sense of pity which he felt for this bright, impulsive girl, the longings of whose nature were not answered by a single noble impulse in the hearts of those who were her nearest counselors. Oh, how he pitied her! Pitied her as he had learned to pity the innocent and the helpless.

The clock struck twelve, and Oliver still sat blowing the smoke from his cigar into the open grate, and kindling his hopes from the flaming coals. It was nearly as restful as sleep. He had been thinking of his mother; of little Mollie, and of her love for Pearl; for Pearl!

Blessed Pearl! And a gloomy shadow spread across his face. The truth had been slowly dawning upon his life. To-night it filled the entire horizon of his soul with light. It was Pearl from whom he had learned everything noble in life; Pearl who had recalled his erring heart; Pearl his strength, his inspiration; Pearl whom he had always loved. Still he hesitated to use the word even in his thoughts tonight. She seemed to him the embodiment of something sacred-an inspiration—a dream. He saw the light more clearly now, and dreamed of what seemed to him a hopeless love.

Oh, how could his heart have wandered for a moment from her! He thought how she had always been so careless of herself, so thoughtful of him, and it was this which pained him most, for he had not entirely outlived the boyish belief that a woman who loves must be jealous, cautious, commanding and self-defensive. To be frank, yielding and unselfish, as she had been, was to love only as a sister would love a brother. He thought of the many times when she had I called him brother. With self-reproach he thought of the times when he had called her sister. It seemed a wicked arrangement of things that he could not begin anew; that these recollections could not be blotted out of Pearl's mind.

And yet, what a blessing from heaven to be the brother or friend of such a woman! To him she was the ideal of true womanhood. To study her depth and beauty and grandeur of soul was to be a better man.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk: this is my antient; this is my right hand, and this is my left hand. I am not drunk." —OTHELLO.

Nearly four weeks of the session had passed, and still Mr. Villars had not been able to ascertain the cash value of John White's public spirit. Neither was he able, as yet, to count a majority for his park bill. The members from the rural districts were afraid of it, though some of them had been induced to give up this local prejudice and adopt Mr. Villars' ideas of public spirit.

It was Saturday night; the Legislature had adjourned. Of those who remained in the city, there were three especially with whom Mr. Snyder and the "Clipper" (as Mr. Clipperton was generally called, even now that "Hon." was written before his name) desired to be better "acquainted."

It was a good night for what the Clipper called a "flow of spirits," and a dozen members and lobbyists (all favorable to Mr. Villars' plans) had determined to have what had come to be known in Capitol City as a "seance."

Mr. Villars, chairman of the committee on local affairs, was glad to place his committee-room at their disposal, and it was at his expense that the spirits materialized. Several cases of beer, several baskets of champagne and a cabinet of other spirits had

been provided, and certainly Dan Sullivan was just the medium to preside.

Two or three lobbyists and a dozen members were present, including the gentleman whose conversation with Mr. Snyder Oliver had overheard at the circus, also including the three members with whom Mr. Villars' friends desired to be better "acquainted." Mr. Villars was sorry to be unavoidably absent; but, as before intimated, he was present in spirit. With cards, cigars and an extemporized sideboard, it promised to be a very spirit-stirring occasion. The political pot was no longer boiling,-it was bubbling, effervescing, foaming and fermenting.

Strange how men away from home long to throw off restraint! It seems to be a law of human nature, binding alike on college boy, travelers and dignified Solons. The erratic tendency in man is so great that in time no two of us would speak the same language were it not for the necessity of keeping on speaking terms with our neighbors. So, a great many people are moral from social necessity. They try to cheat themselves by thinking that it is the voice of conscience. It is the hue and cry of the populace-the summons of the sheriff. The good opinion of others is the centripetal force which holds many wandering worldlings to the course of rectitude. One of these three gentlemen with whom Mr. Snyder desired to be better "acquainted" was a straightforward business man at home-or in perihelion, so to speak. At the last election he received a large temperance vote because of his temperance principles, but now he was away from home, -at the aphelion of his course, with this natural tendency to go off on a tangent.

In an hour the room was about as blue as tobacco smoke could make it, and those present were playing very innocently at five cents a corner, and some even without that inducement.

The three initiates were provided for with as much care as sophomores in college provide for freshmen, Without any apparent intention, each became seated at a table with three of Mr. Villars' most publicspirited followers.

Mr. Snyder's partner was a farmer by the name of Drinkwater, who considered himself something of a wit and always followed his own remarks with a peculiar laugh which sounded as though he were trying to decline hic-haec-hoc. He had previously been heard to say that it was all right for Mr. Villars to represent Capitol City, but he represented Brushwood, and the people of Brushwood were not clamoring for a chance to sun themselves in Mr. Villars' parkshic-haec-hoc. Mr. Drinkwater also prided himself that he was a good pedro player, and he declined hichaec-hoc several times when he and Mr. Snyder won the last game. At his left sat Senator Brown and

at his right the Clipper. The only persons who were not playing were Dan Sullivan, who was engaged in the more congenial occupation of master of ceremonies, and who, when not otherwise employed, amused himself by blowing smoke into an empty beer bottle and watching its wave-like movements with apparent philosophical relish, and an editor, who, it was claimed, owned and edited the papers of both political parties in the village where he lived. He spent his time talking to Sullivan and lounging from table to table watching the plays.