Instead of returning at eleven o’clock, they returned at two in the morning. By Amos’s request it had been arranged that no servant should sit up for them, but when they entered the hall and found it dark Molly expressed surprise that not a single light should have been left burning. They easily found the matches, however, and lighted a candle. Amos had just learned from the coachman that a letter ready at six in the morning would go by an early train, so Molly showed him a little desk of her grandmother’s in the dining-room, and then left him to his writing. Passing through the hall toward the stairs she happened to look into a sitting-room, and beyond it, through a corridor, saw a portion of the big library where the moonlight fell upon a marble bust. She paused, then returning to the door of the dining-room, asked, “How long shall you be at that letter, little prince?” “Not five minutes.” “Then come into the library and see it in the moonlight. You will find a girl there who is interested in you.” “All right. That girl will not wait long.” Although familiar with the old library, Molly was impressed anew by its stately proportions as she entered from the little corridor. The spacious room was now flooded by the moonlight that streamed through the high windows at the farther end and brought out, in ghostly relief, the white Ionic columns against the encircling wall. Between them, in varying shapes and sizes, hung the family portraits, and in front of every column stood a pedestal with its marble bust. At the present moment the pallid face of Dante caught the moonbeams, and seemed to follow her with solemn eyes. As she swept with a rustle of silk along the huge, round, crimson carpet, she remembered how deeply she had been impressed in former years by the knowledge that it was made in England expressly for this room. The perfect stillness was broken only by herself as she moved out into the wide circle of mysterious faces.