th his soul, but the face of Christina was shining down
on Jan from out the gloom.

"You will mean it?" whispered Nicholas Snyders.

"May my soul pass from me and enter into Nicholas Snyders!" answered
Jan, replacing his empty glass upon the table. And the two stood looking
for a moment into one another's eyes.

And the high candles on the littered desk flickered and went out, as
though a breath had blown them, first one and then the other.

"I must be getting home," came the voice of Jan from the darkness. "Why
did you blow out the candles?"

"We can light them again from the fire," answered Nicholas. He did not
add that he had meant to ask that same question of Jan. He thrust them
among the glowing logs, first one and then the other; and the shadows
crept back into their corners.

"You will not stop and see Christina?" asked Nicholas.

"Not to-night," answered Jan.

"The paper that I signed," Nicholas reminded him--"you have it?"

"I had forgotten it," Jan answered.

The old man took it from the desk and handed it to him. Jan thrust it
into his pocket and went out. Nicholas bolted the door behind him and
returned to his desk; sat long there, his elbow resting on the open
ledger.

Nicholas pushed the ledger aside and laughed. "What foolery! As if such
things could be! The fellow must have bewitched me."

Nicholas crossed to the fire and warmed his hands before the blaze.
"Still, I am glad he is going to marry the little lass. A good lad, a
good lad."

Nicholas must have fallen asleep before the fire. When he opened his
eyes, it was to meet the grey dawn. He felt cold, stiff, hungry, and
decidedly cross. Why had not Christina woke him up and given him his
supper. Did she think he had intended to pass the night on a wooden
chair? The girl was an idiot. He would go upstairs and tell her through
the door just what he thought of her.

His way upstairs led through the kitchen. To his astonishment, there sat
Christina, asleep before the burnt-out grate.

"Upon my word," muttered Nicholas to himself, "people in this house
don't seem to know what beds are for!"

But it was not Christina, so Nicholas told himself. Christina had the
look of a frightened rabbit: it had always irritated him. This girl,
even in her sleep, wore an impertinent expression--a delightfully
impertinent expression. Besides, this girl was pretty--marvellously
pretty. Indeed, so pretty a girl Nicholas had never seen in all his life
befor