The chambermaid came to say that "Miss Carney" would like to see me after a short time had passed. I therefore made myself as presentable as possible, bathing my heated face, brushing my hair and arranging a necktie that had got sadly out of place. When twenty minutes had elapsed, I went to Marjorie's door and knocked softly. She came and opened it just enough to see who was there, but instead of asking me to enter said she had found, on reflection, that she did not need anything and believed the best course for her was to retire. She evidently either knew or suspected what had occurred and wanted to see if I bore evidence of having been injured. "Very well; good-night," I said, in answer to her suggestion. "Good-night," she answered. And, "God bless you!" she added, fervently. "My love!" I murmured, hoping she would relent and give me a longer interview, but she shook her head with a sad smile and closed the door. I heard the key turn in the lock and, realizing that it was useless to remain longer, re-entered my own chamber and prepared for sleep. In the midst of a sound slumber, for the events of the evening did not much disturb my rest, I suddenly came to consciousness. A figure, distinct enough, stood between me and the window. The bright night of the tropics made the principal objects in the room look almost as clear as day. Half doubting whether I were really awake I sprang up, when a low voice made me pause. "Hush! Not a sound," said the voice. "It is only I." The window was wide open, showing where she had entered, for it was Marjorie that spoke. "I was nervous, and could not sleep, and on going upon the balcony I found your window unfastened." The wonder that she had entered overpowered every other sentiment. How could it be true that this girl, who had nearly fainted with fear when I merely put an arm around her, had come in the night within my bedroom, clad, as I plainly saw, in the garments of slumber. I stretched my arms toward her, but she moved away. What an incomprehensible creature she was! "Do not stir," she continued, earnestly, and with a trembling tongue. "I tried to make you hear me, without entering, but you slept too soundly. It is not well--it is not safe--to sleep with your window unfastened. I thought you ought to know. That is all. Good-night." She was moving toward the exit and I called after her softly. "Marjorie!" I said. "Come here a little while before you leave." She turned her white face--whiter in the pale moonlight than I had ever seen it--toward me, still moving slowly away. "And you," she whispered, "are the man who told me, only a few hours ago, that you wanted me for your wife!" "I do, my darling!" I replied, with all the fervor I could put into the words. "I mean no more than I say when I ask to touch your cheek with my lips, your hand even, the hem of your gown."