Of the two young men, Harry Clifford and Frank Van Buren, who had been suggested to him as copies, Richard preferred the former, and wished he could feel as easy with regard to Frank as he was with regard to Harry.

He had never forgotten that fragment of conversation overheard in Washington, and as time went on it haunted him more and more.

He had given up expecting any confession from Ethelyn, though at first he was constantly expecting it, and laying little snares by way of hints and reminders; but Ethelyn had evidently changed her mind, and if there was a past which Richard ought to have known, he would now probably remain in ignorance of it, unless some chance revealed it.

It would have been far better if Richard had tried to banish all thoughts of Frank Van Buren from his mind and taken Ethelyn as he found her; but Richard was a man, and so, manlike, he hugged the skeleton which he in part had dragged into his home, and petted it, and kept it constantly in sight, instead of thrusting it out from the chamber of his heart, and barring the door against it.

Frank's name was never mentioned between them, but Richard fancied that always after the receipt of Mrs.Dr.Van Buren's letters Ethelyn was a little sad, and more disposed to find fault with him, and he sometimes wished Mrs.Dr.Van Buren might never write to them again.