oking, but shivering and anxious, and longing for the hour
at which he had told Yanna he would call for her answer.

The day, pleasantly chill in the morning, had become damp and gray,
and full of the promise of rain. And as he drove through the fallen
leaves of the bare woods, and felt the depressing drizzle, he thought
of the many lovely days and glorious nights he had let slip; though
the question asked at the end of them was precisely the question he
wished to ask at the beginning. He wondered if he had missed his hour.
He wondered if he had misunderstood Yanna's smiles and attitudes. He
lost heart so far that he drove twice past the house ere he felt brave
enough to take manfully the possible "No" Yanna might give him. "Men
understand so little about women," he thought, "and all her
pleasantness may have been mere friendship."

For the first time in all his acquaintance with the Van Hoosen family,
the front door was shut. Usually it stood open wide, and he had been
accustomed to walk forward to the sitting-room, and tap there with his
riding whip, if it was empty; or to enter with a gay greeting, if
Antony or Yanna was there to answer it. To be sure, the day was
miserably damp and chill, but oh! why had he waited all the long
summer for this uncomfortable sense of a closed door in his face?

He drove to the stable, and when he went back to the house Peter was
on the threshold to receive him. "Come in, Mr. Filmer," he said.
"Antony has gone to New York. I believe in my heart, he has gone for
fineries for your ball; though he called it 'business.'"

"I am glad Antony is coming, although I fully respect Miss Van
Hoosen's scruples with regard to dancing."

"Yes, yes! On a road full of danger it is good to have scruples. They
are like a pebble in the shoe, you cannot walk on it without a
constant painful reminder; and if you lift the foot, then, you do not
walk on it at all. Yanna has had no fight to make, no life and death
issues to meet every day; and to those who live ordinary lives, a
creed, and a straight creed, is necessary, yes, as much so as a wall
is to a wheat field. Without external rules, and strong bonds, very
few would remain religious. But with Antony it is different. He was
churchless for ten years; but on many a battle field and in many a
desert camp God met and blessed him. Such men have larger liberty than
even I durst claim."

"I have talked much with Antony on religious subjects; I think it
i