Such was often the tenor of his thoughts, and ambition suggested the many doors to advancement which such an alliance would open. Mr. Ainsley was not only a man of wealth, but also of large, liberal ideas. It certainly would be a pleasure and a constant exhilaration to aid him in carrying out his great enterprises.

Thus Clancy, as well as Mara, was led by disappointment in his dearest hope of happiness to seek what next promised best in his estimation to redeem life from a dreary monotony of negations. He also resolved to have motives and incentives; nor was his ambition purely selfish, for he purposed to use whatever power, wealth and influence he might obtain for the benefit of the people among whom he dwelt. Hers, however, was the nobler motive, and the less selfish, for it involved self-sacrifice, even though it was mistaken, and could lead only to wrong action. It would cost him nothing to carry out his large, beneficent purposes. Indeed, they would add to his pleasures and enhance his reputation. She was but a woman, and saw no other path of escape from the conditions of her lot except the thorny one of self-abnegation.

Alternately cast down, and fired by conflicting thoughts and purposes, Clancy soon discovered that the woods was no place for him, and he resolved to return to the city, there to be guided by the circumstances of the next few weeks. If it became clear that Mara had not been influenced by his warning, but on the contrary was accepting Bodine's attentions, then he would face the truth that she was lost to him beyond hope. Without compunction he would turn to Miss Ainsley, and, with all the wariness and penetration which he could exercise, seek to discover how far she would go with him in his life campaign to achieve eminence. He was glad, however, that he did not regard her as essential to his plans and hopes. Indeed, he had the odd feeling that even if she rejected him as a husband, he could shake hands with her and say: "Very well, Ainsley, we can be good comrades just the same. We amuse and interest each other, we mutually stimulate our mental faculties. Let it end here."

In this mood he fulfilled his promise and wrote as follows:

"My DEAR AINSLEY—Permit me to remind you of my existence—if one can be said to exist in these wilds. An expedition of this kind is a good thing for a fellow occasionally. It enables him to get acquainted with himself, to indulge in egotism without being a nuisance. I have neither hunted, fished, nor studied the natives. I have not seen a "mountain maid" whose embrace I would prefer to that of a bear. I have merely tramped aimlessly about, meanwhile learning that I am not adapted to communion with nature. At this moment I should prefer smoking a cigar with you on the balcony to looking at scenery which should inspire artist and poet. I am neither, merely a man of affairs. Humanity interests me more than oaks, however gigantic. You see I have no soul, no heart, no soaring imagination. I am as matter-of-fact a fellow as you are. That's why we get on so well together. We can chaff, spar, and run intellectual tilts as amicably as any two men in town. This proves you to be quite exceptional—delightfully so. I'm not surprised, however, for, as I have said to you, you are sated with the other kind of thing. How long will this fancy last? Now that you are so manly you should not be fickle. You have not half comprehended the penalties of your new role, for you may find that it involves a distressing frankness. I think I had better close. Letter-writing pre-supposes literary qualities which I do not possess. Men, unless sentimentally inclined, or given to hobbies, rarely write long letters to each other. If unusually congenial they can talk together as long as women. I do not know of a man in town who can equal you as good company; and with this fact in mind, I shall atone for a brief letter by putting in an appearance at an early date. If you have had any flirtations in my absence I shall expect all the details. You know I do not care for such trivial amusements. In this material age, making the world move in the way of business affords ample scope for my limited faculties, while a chat with you is better than a game of chess in the way of recreation, better than moping in the woods. Your friend, CLANCY."

He had barely time to post the letter before the mail-stage left the little hamlet in which it was written. He was soon dissatisfied with himself and the missive, and regretted having written it. Before an hour had passed he muttered: "I never wrote such a letter to a woman before, and I won't again. I put myself in the worst light, in fact was unjust to myself. How differently I would write to Mara! Is it the difference in women which inevitably inspires different thought and action? At any rate, there is a touch of coarseness in this masculine persiflage which grates. When I return we must become friends as man and woman. I wonder if she will feel as I do about it?"

Miss Ainsley was not satisfied with the letter at all, one reason being that it revealed too much penetration on Clancy's part. While she welcomed him with her old cordiality she took him to task at once.

"This is a spurious letter," she said, holding it up. "You would never write such an affair to a male friend. You betrayed a consciousness of my femininity in every line. You preached to me and warned me with the same penful of ink. You write as if you were a commonplace male cynic, and I a woman who was trying to unsex herself by a lot of ridiculous affectations. I wished a genial, jolly letter such as you might write to an old college chum."

"Do you know the reason why I did not, rather could not, write such a letter?"

"No."