She, looking up, caught his frown, and in her egotism and excitement, thought it meant only jealousy of the man she had so favored during the evening. "Perhaps he is more deeply smitten than I imagined, and I can punish him yet," was the hope that entered her mind; and this prospect added to the elation and excitement which had mastered her. "Can she know how that scoundrel is looking at her? If I believed it I'd leave her marvellous features to their fate," was the thought that passed through his mind. In his perturbation he walked down the long piazza. Happening to glance into one of the small private parlors, he witnessed a scene that made a very sharp contrast with the one he had just left. An old white-haired, white-bearded man, a well-known guest of the house, reclined in an easy-chair with an expression of real enjoyment on his face. His aged wife sat near, knitting away as tranquilly as if at home, while under the gas-jet was Miss Burton, reading a newspaper, with two or three others upon her lap. She had evidently found the old gentleman trying to glean, with his feeble sight, the evening journals that had been brought from the city, and was lending him her young eyes and mellow voice for an hour. The picture struck him so pleasantly that he took out his notebook and indicated the fortunate grouping within, for a future sketch. "It would make some difference in a man's future," he muttered, "whether this maiden or the one in yonder roue's embrace were installed as the mistress of his home." Going back into the main hallway he met Stanton coming down the stairs with his face unusually flushed. "Oh, Van," he cried, "where have you been keeping yourself? Come with me and have some of the best brandy you ever tasted." "Where is it?" "In Sibley's room. He brought up a couple of bottles of the prime old article, and has invited all his friends to make free with it." "I'm not one of his friends." "Oh well, you're my friend! What's the odds? A swig of such brandy will do you good, so come along." "Come out on the piazza, Stanton. I want to show you something." "Can't you wait a few moments? I want to have a whirl in this jolly waltz before it's over." "No; then it will be too late. I won't keep you long," and Stanton reluctantly followed him. Van Berg understood his friend sufficiently well to know that any ordinary remonstrance would have no influence in his present condition, and so sought to use a little strategy. Taking him to the window of the small private parlor, he showed and explained to him the pretty and quiet scene within. Stanton's manner changed instantly, and he seemed in no haste to return to the waltz. "I thought it would strike you as a pretty picture, as it did me," remarked Van Berg, quietly; "and I also thought that after seeing it you would not want any more of Sibley's brandy. It would choke me."