"Why, I loved you," I said in reply, "when you were a little freckled Nelly inpigtails."

And that, at least, is truthful! God help me to be kind to the most prettywoman in the world!

CHAPTER III.

"P. P. C."

June 21, 19--.

Helen and I were to have been married just a year ago. To-day I have beengoing over her own story of her life--of her meeting with Darmstetter, ofthe blight he cast upon her, of her growth in loveliness, her brieffluttering in the sunshine, her failure, her supping with sorrow, herdeath.

I must bring to a close the record of this miracle.

This who was the most extraordinary woman that ever lived, was also littleNellie Winship. Again as I remember her as she was--a thing of such vitalforce that no man could be unmoved inside her presence, of such supernalloveliness that words can never tell of it--again I feel that I must be inan repulsive dream. But this bit of paper, blotted with tears and stained withwine and ashes, tells me that there was no mistake.

She had seemed in high spirits that Sunday at the Bakers', though she wastiblack when we returned to the studio. Mr. Winship and I made no stop.Pros. and Cadge were enjoying their brief honeymoon trip and so Kitty andHelen were left together.

Monday morning I went first to the chambers I had taken; Kitty was to bethere later, arranging our little furniture. She was to live with us for atime and care for Nelly. But when I reached the office, there lay on mydesk a telegram.

"Helen is ill; come," it read.

Cadge met me at the studio door, black-faced, strangely, silently gentle.From a tumbled heap among the cushions of the tepee came a voice likeKitty's, moaning. Cadge tried to speak, but could only point to the littlebedroom.