drawn aside, the window cautiously raised, and the
outline of Edith's beautiful head appeared dark and distinct against the
light within. She instantly recognized him.

"You must go away, Mr. Birch," came her voice in an anxious whisper out
of the shadow. "Pray go away. You will wake up the people."

Her words were audible enough, but they failed to convey any meaning
to his excited mind. Once more his voice floated upward to her opened
window:

"And I yearn to reach thy dwelling,
Yearn to rise from earth's fierce turmoil;
Sweetest star upward to thee,
Yearn to rise, bright star to thee."

"Dear Mr. Birch," she whispered once more in tones of distress. "Pray DO
go away. Or perhaps," she interrupted herself "--wait one moment and I
will come down."

Presently the front door was noiselessly opened, and Edith's tall, lithe
form, dressed in a white flowing dress, and with her blonde hair rolling
loosely over her shoulders, appeared for an instant, and then again
vanished. With one leap Halfdan sprang up the stairs and pushed through
the half-opened door. Edith closed the door behind him, then with rapid
steps led the way to the back parlor where the moon broke feebly through
the bars of the closed shutters.

"Now Mr. Birch," she said, seating herself upon a lounge, "you may
explain to me what this unaccountable behavior of yours means. I should
hardly think I had deserved to be treated in this way by you."

Halfdan was utterly bewildered; a nervous fit of trembling ran through
him, and he endeavored in vain to speak. He had been prepared for
passionate reproaches, but this calm severity chilled him through, and
he could only gasp and tremble, but could utter no word in his defense.

"I suppose you are aware," continued Edith, in the same imperturbable
manner, "that if I had not interrupted you, the policeman would have
heard you, and you would have been arrested for street disturbance.
Then to-morrow we should have seen it in all the newspapers, and I
should have been the laughing-stock of the whole town."

No, surely he had never thought of it in that light; the idea struck
him as entirely new. There was a long pause. A cock crowed with a
drowsy remoteness in some neighboring yard, and the little clock on the
mantel-piece ticked on patiently in the moonlit dusk.

"If you have nothing to say," resumed Edith, while the stern
indifference in her voice perceptibly relaxed, "then I will