, for what I can tell. He _could_ not mean
to sin against you, Princess. If he seemed to fail in respect, or
courtesy, or anything that was your due, forgive him, and don't banish
him forever. I trusted that you would have enlightened and converted and
consoled him: he is worth it."

I longed to say more, but this was as far as I dared go. She sighed.

"Perhaps I need to be converted and consoled myself. But that is
ungrateful; with such a comforter at hand I ought not to be miserable.
We never knew each other like this before, Robert. Why is it?"

"I don't know, Clarice--or rather I do, of course. It takes the moon,
and stars, and a common trouble, to bring people together, even when
they see each other every day; and then concurring moods must help. One
stands in awe of you, Princess; I always shall. You only tolerated me
when you were happy: I was rough, and careless, and stupid, and made bad
jokes in the wrong places. I will try to do better after this, so that
you need not be repelled when you want me. Hartman, now, is of finer
mould than I: if you would let him come back--"

"No more of that now, dear. Let us go in. The moon is going down: it is
getting cold and dark." So it was; and damp too--on my shoulder at
least. "I am glad you had your old coat on," she said.

Mabel was alone in the parlor. "Well," she began; then she saw our
faces, and modified her tone. "The moonlight was very fine, I suppose?"

"You know you never will go out in the evening," said Clarice. "It is
later than I thought. Don't scold Robert; he has been a dear good boy."
She kissed her, and went upstairs.

"Mabel," said I, "Clarice is in trouble." I had to say something, and
this was perfectly safe. You see, she had told me nothing, and so I
could say if asked. But I wasn't.

"I know that, of course, Robert: I have seen it all along. She is a dear
girl, for all her flightiness. She will say nothing to me. I hope it
will come right. If you can help or comfort her, I shall be glad." Then
she too went to bed.

It is unusual for Mabel to be surprised into such candor. I got a cigar,
and went out on the porch to meditate. Jane thought that Clarice would
tell me things. Yes, I have got a lot of information. Let me see, I am a
useful domestic animal, and I have a big heart: that's about the size of
it. At this rate, I can soon write a Cyclopaedia. Well, cold facts are
not all there is in life: there are some things the Cyclopaedias fail to