stess and her guest in the
darkness, and learned from them that they and Archer and Lilian had
been "looking on for ever so long," must needs hurry back to the
ballroom and tell it over and again. "Why didn't you bring them in?"
"Why didn't you make them come in?" were the questions impulsively
asked and not easily answered. They couldn't make them come in! Mrs.
Crook said they were far too tired! They had only just come down to see
how gay and pretty it all looked, and hear the music a minute, before
going to bed! Now they were going to bed!

Then the people began looking for Willett and Evelyn Darrah. There were
not a few who would have been glad to be able to tell _them_ this piece
of news, but the bliss was denied. There was nothing unusual in dancers
going out in the starlight, as had Willett and Evelyn. There was
something odd about their not returning, however, and Mrs. Darrah
presently whisked the colonel home to see about it. Then they did not
return. They found the two on the dark piazza, just home, as said the
daughter. She had a headache and could dance no more, and now would say
good-night, which she said, and that left the colonel alone with
Willett. The mother followed the daughter in-doors to see _if_ she knew
of the arrival, and then to see _that_ she did. The father felt his way
for a moment for some means of getting rid, without rudeness, of this
disturbing young man, and found that he could not. Willett had
something on his mind and, as soon as he saw it, Darrah was scared. In
evident mental excitement Willett had followed, closed the door after
her, then, pulling nervously at his mustache, had turned on the
putative head of the house. "Colonel Darrah," he began in a moment, "I
have something I feel I must say to you----"

"Then _don'-t_, my boy, for God's sake!" said Darrah. "Say it to Mrs.
Darrah, will you? She--er--settles all--this sort of thing for me. She
understands--er--Evvy--if anybody does--I'm blessed if I can,
and--er--if you don't mind, I--I--I think I'll say good-night. Have a
smoke or a drink before you go?" he asked, in enforced and miserable
recognition of the demands of hospitality. "No? Well, of course, you'd
rather be back, I suppose," and so saying, he hoped to get Willett to
go without being the one to either hear what Willett had to say or even
to tell Willett what he knew--that at this very moment Lilian Archer,
the girl to whom this young gallant's love and loyalty were
ple