much you seem to take
for granted one must like you!"

"Remember," he could immediately say, "that you've made a great point of
your liking me. Wouldn't you do so still more if I were heroic?"

She showed him, for all her high impatience now, the interest of a long
look. "I think I should pity you in such a cause. Give it all to _her_;
don't throw away a real happiness!"

"Ah you can't back out of your position with a few vague and even rather
impertinent words!" Peter protested. "You accuse me of swallowing my
opinions, but you swallow your pledges. You've painted in heavenly
colours the sacrifice I'm talking of, and now you must take the
consequences."

"The consequences?"

"Why my coming back in a year to square you."

"Ah you're a bore!"--she let him have it at last. "Come back when you
like. I don't wonder you've grown desperate, but fancy _me_ then!" she
added as she looked past him at a new interlocutor.

"Yes, but if he'll square you!" Peter heard Mrs. Rooth's voice respond
all persuasively behind him. She had stolen up to the window now, had
passed the threshold, was in the room, but her daughter had not been
startled. "What is it he wants to do, dear?" she continued to Miriam.

"To induce me to marry him if he'll go upon the stage. He'll practise
over there--where he's going--and then come back and appear. Isn't it
too dreadful? Talk him out of it, stay with him, soothe him!" the girl
hurried on. "You'll find some drinks and some biscuits in the
cupboard--keep him with you, pacify him, give him _his_ little supper.
Meanwhile I'll go to mine; I'll take the brougham; don't follow!"

With which words Miriam bounded into the garden, her white drapery
shining for an instant in the darkness before she disappeared. Peter
looked about him to pick up his hat, but while he did so heard the bang
of the gate and the quick carriage get into motion. Mrs. Rooth appeared
to sway violently and in opposed directions: that of the impulse to rush
after Miriam and that of the extraordinary possibility to which the
young lady had alluded. She was in doubt, yet at a venture, detaining
him with a maternal touch, she twinkled up at their visitor like an
insinuating glow-worm. "I'm so glad you came."

"I'm not. I've got nothing by it," Peter said as he found his hat.

"Oh it was so beautiful!" she declared.

"The play--yes, wonderful. I'm afraid it's too late for me to avail
myself of the privilege your daughter offers m