he screamed, furious with passion. "I'll pay you for this!
I--I"--He choked with rage, and shook his fist at the motionless figure
on the steps. Then, trembling with impotent fury, oaths stumbling upon
his lips, he turned and rushed into the gathering darkness.

Gifford watched him, and then the door swung shut, and he went back
to Mr. Denner's library. His breath was short, and he was tingling
with passion, but he had no glow of triumph. "I've been a fool," he
said,--"I've been a fool! I've made it worse for her. The hound!"

But in spite of his genuine contrition, there was a subtile joy. "He does
not love her," he thought, "and she will forget him."

Yet, as he sat there in Mr. Denner's dark library, filled with remorse
and unabated rage as well, he began to realize that he had been
meddlesome; and he was stung with a sudden sense that it was not
honorable to have pushed his questions upon Forsythe. Gifford's
relentless justice overtook him. Had he not given Forsythe the right to
insult him? Would not he have protected himself against any man's prying?
Gifford blushed hotly in the darkness. "But not to use Lois's name,--not
that! Nothing could justify the insult to her!"

Mary came in to lock up, and started with fright at the sight of the
dark, still figure. "Lord! it's a ghost!" she cried shrilly.

"I am here, Mary," he said wearily. "I'm going home now."

And so he did, walking doggedly through the storm, with his head bent and
his hands in his pockets, forgetful of Miss Deborah's thoughtfulness in
the way of rubbers, and only anxious to avoid any kindly interruption
from his aunts, which their anxiety concerning damp clothes might
occasion. But he could not escape them. Miss Deborah met him at the door
with a worried face. "My dear boy!" she said, "no umbrella? Pray go to
bed directly, and let me bring you a hot drink. You will surely have a
cough to-morrow." But the little lady came back to the parlor with an
aggrieved face, for he had answered her with quiet determination not to
be fussed over. The sisters heard him walk quickly up-stairs and lock his
door. They looked at each other in astonishment.

"He feels it very much," said Miss Ruth.

"Yes," returned Miss Deborah; "he has been sorting the papers all the
afternoon. I must go and see Willie to-morrow."

"Oh, I'll do that," Miss Ruth answered. "I cannot help feeling that it
is--my place."

"Not at all," replied Miss Deborah firmly; "the miniature