weep. He led her
to a lounge.

"I think," he said, struggling for thought very seriously; he racked
his stormy, fuddled brain for what would most please her. "Now, when
shall we have a wedding, mother? Grace--Grace Langham."

"O Notely!" She tried to detain him with her hand.

"I'll go--go ask her," he said. He passed out with an easy
exaggeration of his usual lordly air, debonair and high, and at the
same time genial.

Grace was alone in the arbor, in her favorite hammock, with a book,
when Notely came up.

The look she gave him was full of amusement and anger and disgust.

These qualities somehow attracted him now. He was a gentleman; he
tried to hold himself very erect against the trellis, and put the
question delicately.

"Light--light--light of my soul!" he said.

Grace threw down her book and screamed. Then she put her hands over
her face and fell to crying.

Notely took out his handkerchief and wiped his own eyes with the
choicest deliberation of sympathy.

"All--all seem to be weeping to-day," he said.

"Oh, you wretch! you brute! you brute!" cried Grace.

Notely, though much flattered, continued diplomatically mopping his
eyes.

At length he desisted; and Grace, looking out and seeing his keen,
handsome profile staring out so desolately, came down from the hammock.

She shivered a little; drunken men were horrid, even dangerous. But
Notely! She came up heroically and put her hand on his sleeve.

"There is one condition, Notely, on which I can--consider your
proposal."

"Name," said Notely, with touching legal precision, "condition on which
you'll marry me."

"You must never, never drink like this again. I did not know that you
ever did this. Oh, how it has hurt me!" The lace fell back from her
white arms, there was a perfume of flowers about her; bright brown eyes
are lovelier when suffused with tears.

"Thanks!" said Notely, meaning to come up to the full measure of the
occasion. "I'm not--not worthy. No--no--no previous engagement,
how'ver."

But he was so gentle, she took his arm and led him in. Mrs. Langham,
who always spoiled him, entering stately in silk and gems, engaged him
in a game of cribbage, humoring gravely all his startling and original
vagaries in the game.

"What does it mean?" cried Grace to Mrs. Garrison.

"It was an accident, not an excess, my child," said the mother, smiling
proudly. "It should never be mentioned in connection with my son; it
is