aughing and talking together in some corner
away from the ball-room, while she, who understood him so well, and who
could not find the words to tell him how much she valued what he was
and what he had done, was forgotten and sitting here alone, like
Cinderella, by the empty fireplace.

The picture was so pathetic as Hope drew it, that for a moment she felt
almost a touch of self-pity, but the next she laughed scornfully at her
own foolishness, and rising with an impatient shrug, walked away in the
direction of her room.

But before she had crossed the veranda she was stopped by the sound of
a horse's hoofs galloping over the hard sun-baked road that led from
the city, and before she had stepped forward out of the shadow in which
she stood the horse had reached the steps and his rider had pulled him
back on his haunches and swung himself off before the forefeet had
touched the ground.

Hope had guessed that it was Clay by his riding, and she feared from
his haste that some one of her people were ill. So she ran anxiously
forward and asked if anything were wrong.

Clay started at her sudden appearance, and gave a short boyish laugh of
pleasure.

"I'm so glad you're still up," he said. "No, nothing is wrong." He
stopped in some embarrassment. He had been moved to return by the fact
that the little girl he knew was in trouble, and now that he was
suddenly confronted by this older and statelier young person, his
action seemed particularly silly, and he was at a loss to explain it in
any way that would not give offence.

"No, nothing is wrong," he repeated. "I came after something."

Clay had borrowed one of the cloaks the troopers wore at night from the
same man who had lent him the horse, and as he stood bareheaded before
her, with the cloak hanging from his shoulders to the floor and the
star and ribbon across his breast, Hope felt very grateful to him for
being able to look like a Prince or a hero in a book, and to yet remain
her Mr. Clay at the same time.

"I came to get your sister's fan," Clay explained. "She forgot it."

The young girl looked at him for a moment in surprise and then
straightened herself slightly. She did not know whether she was the
more indignant with Alice for sending such a man on so foolish an
errand, or with Clay for submitting to such a service.

"Oh, is that it?" she said at last. "I will go and find you one." She
gave him a dignified little bow and moved away toward the do