t is time you were in
bed, your eyes are like saucers. Don't sit up for me, Graeme."

Graeme had no heart to remonstrate. She felt it would do no good, and
he went away leaving a very silent party behind him. Charlie lingered.
When Graeme came down-stairs after seeing Will in his room she found him
still sitting opposite Rose, silent and grave. He roused himself as she
entered. Graeme would gladly have excused him, but she took a seat and
her work, and prepared to be entertained. It was not an easy matter,
though Charlie had the best will in the world to be entertaining, and
Graeme tried to respond. She did not think of it at the time, but
afterwards, when Charlie was gone, she remembered the sad wistful look
with which the lad had regarded her. Rose too, hung about her, saying
nothing, but with eyes full of something to which Graeme would not
respond. One angry throb, stirred her heart, but her next thoughts were
not in anger.

"These foolish young people have been dreaming dreams about Allan and
me,--and I must undeceive them--or deceive them--"

"Graeme," said Rose, softly, "if either of us wait for Harry it must be
me, for you are very tired."

"Yes, I am very tired."

"Charlie said, perhaps he would take Harry home with him. Should we
wait?" said Rose.

"No. He may not come. We will not wait. I shall sleep near Will. He
cannot spare me yet. Now go, love."

She kissed the troubled face upturned to her, but would suffer no
lingering over the good-night. She was in no haste to go herself,
however. She did not mean to wait for Harry, but when two hours had
passed, she was still sitting where Rose had left her, and then Harry
came.

But oh! the misery of that home-coming. Graeme must have fallen asleep,
she thought, for she heard nothing till the door opened, and then she
heard Harry's voice, thick and interrupted, thanking someone, and then
stupidly insisting on refusing all further help.

"Never mind, gentlemen--I can manage--thank you."

There were two persons with him, Charlie Millar was one of them.

"Hush, Harry. Be quiet, man. Are you mad? You will waken your
sister."

The light which someone held behind them, flushed for a moment on
Graeme's pale face.

"Oh! Miss Elliott," said Charles, "I tried to keep him with me. He is
mad, I think. Be quiet, Harry."

Harry quite incapable of walking straight, struggled to free himself and
staggered toward his sister.

"I knew you