ars of self-pity came welling up, and without warning a great sob
burst out of her. Alarmed at the sound, she smothered her mouth with
her arm. No good; they came breaking out! A door opened; all the blood
rushed to her heart and away from it, and with a little dreadful gurgle
she was silent. Some one was listening. How long that terrible listening
lasted she had no idea; then footsteps, and she was conscious that it
was standing in the dark behind her. A foot touched her back. She gave a
little gasp. Derek's voice whispered hoarsely:

"What? Who are you?"

And, below her breath, she answered: "Nedda."

His arms wrenched her away from the banister, his voice in her ear said:

"Nedda, darling, Nedda!"

But despair had sunk too deep; she could only quiver and shake and try
to drive sobbing out of her breath. Then, most queer, not his words, nor
the feel of his arms, comforted her--any one could pity!--but the smell
and the roughness of his Norfolk jacket. So he, too, had not been in
bed; he, too, had been unhappy! And, burying her face in his sleeve, she
murmured:

"Oh, Derek! Why?"

"I didn't want them all to see. I can't bear to give it away. Nedda,
come down lower and let's love each other!"

Softly, stumbling, clinging together, they went down to the last turn of
the wide stairs. How many times had she not sat there, in white frocks,
her hair hanging down as now, twisting the tassels of little programmes
covered with hieroglyphics only intelligible to herself, talking
spasmodically to spasmodic boys with budding 'tails,' while Chinese
lanterns let fall their rose and orange light on them and all the other
little couples as exquisitely devoid of ease. Ah! it was worth those
hours of torture to sit there together now, comforting each other with
hands and lips and whisperings. It was more, as much more than that
moment in the orchard, as sun shining after a Spring storm is more than
sun in placid mid-July. To hear him say: "Nedda, I love you!" to feel
it in his hand clasped on her heart was much more, now that she knew how
difficult it was for him to say or show it, except in the dark with her
alone. Many a long day they might have gone through together that would
not have shown her so much of his real heart as that hour of whispering
and kisses.

He had known she was unhappy, and yet he couldn't! It had only made him
more dumb! It was awful to be like that! But now that she knew, she was
glad to think that it