can do that--no, nor no group of men, nor party!" His voice
grew louder as the last strains of the music came more faintly from the
street. "They'll take your banner across the Rio Grande, Fanchon, but
that is not all--some day its stars must spread over the world! Don't
you all see that they will?"

After a little while, he closed his eyes with a sigh; the doctor bent
over him quickly, and Miss Betty started forward unconsciously and cried
out.

But the bright eyes opened again and fixed themselves upon her with all
their old, gay inscrutability.

"Not yet," said Crailey. "Miss Carewe, may I tell you that I am sorry
I could not have known you sooner? Perhaps you might have liked me for
Fanchon's sake--I know you care for her."

"I do--I do!" she faltered. "I love her, and--ah!--I do like you, Mr.
Gray, for I know you, though I never--met you until--last night. God
bless you--God bless you!"

She wavered a moment, like a lily in the wind, and put out a hand
blindly. "Not you!" she said sharply, as Tom Vanrevel started toward
her. Mrs. Tanberry came quickly and put an arm about her, and together
they went out of the room.

"You must be good to her, Tom," said Crailey then, in a very low voice.

"I!" answered Tom, gently. "There was never a chance of that, lad."

"Listen," whispered Crailey. "Lean down--no--closer." He cast a quick
glance at Fanchon, kneeling at the other side of the bed, her golden
head on the white coverlet, her outstretched hand clutching his; and
he spoke so close to Tom's ear and in so low a tone that only Tom could
hear. "She never cared for me. She felt that she ought to--but that was
only because I masqueraded in your history. She wanted to tell me before
I went away that there was no chance for me. She was telling me that,
when he called from the window. It was at the dance, the night before,
that she knew. I think there has been someone else from the first--God
send it's you! Did you speak to her that night or she to you?"

"Ah, no," said Tom Vanrevel. "All the others."

Mrs. Tanberry and Betty and Mr. Bareaud waited in the library, the two
women huddled together on a sofa, with their arms round each other,
and all the house was very still. By and by, they heard a prolonged,
far-away cheering and the steamer's whistle, and knew that the boat was
off. Half an hour later, Will Cummings came back alone, entered the room
on tip-toe, and silently sank into a chair near Mr. Bareaud, with h