proposes that I
take her home!

"With a remnant of self-possession I groped for my eye-glass, seized
it, screwed it firmly into my eye, and looked long and earnestly at
the girl. As I looked, my eyes softened, my monacle dropped, and I
forgot everything in the beauty and purity of the face before me. My
heart began to beat against my stiff, white waistcoat. Had I
dared--yes, dared to think of this wondrous little beauty as a female
tourist? Her pale, sweet face, turned towards the sea, seemed to cast
a spell upon the night. How loud my heart was beating! The yellow moon
floated, half dipping in the sea, flooding land and water with
enchanted lights. Wind and wave seemed to feel the spell of her eyes,
for the breeze died away, the heaving Scheldt tossed noiselessly, and
the dark Dutch luggers swung idly on the tide with every sail adroop.

"A sudden hush fell over land and water, the voices on the promenade
were stilled; little by little the shadowy throng, the terrace, the
sea itself vanished, and I only saw her face, shadowed against the
moon.

"It seemed as if I had drifted miles above the earth, through all
space and eternity, and there was naught between me and high heaven
but that white face. Ah, how I loved her! I knew it--I never doubted
it. Could years of passionate adoration touch her heart--her little
heart, now beating so calmly with no thought of love to startle it
from its quiet and send it fluttering against the gentle breast? In
her lap her clasped hands tightened--her eyelids drooped as though
some pleasant thought was passing. I saw the color dye her temples, I
saw the blue eyes turn, half frightened, to my own, I saw--and I knew
she had read my thoughts. Then we both rose, side by side, and she was
weeping softly, yet for my life I dared not speak. She turned away,
touching her eyes with a bit of lace, and I sprang to her side and
offered her my arm.

"'You cannot go back alone,' I said.

"She did not take my arm.

"'Do you hate me, Miss Wyeth?'

"'I am very tired,' she said; 'I must go home.'

"'You cannot go alone.'

"'I do not care to accept your escort.'

"'Then--you send me away?'

"'No,' she said, in a hard voice. 'You can come if you like.' So I
humbly attended her to the Hotel St. Antoine.

XXIV

"As we reached the Place Verte and turned into the court of the hotel,
the sound of the midnight bells swept over the city, and a horse-car
jingled slowly by on its last trip