"Then Virginia and myself will be spectators of the next waltz. Your lordship will favor us with your company soon? Mr. Thorpe, you will not forget your promise to Constance for the Newport?" "Just in time, eh, auntie, I guess so!" cut in the cheerful voice of strenuous Sam, who had bounded down the steps and stood in front of them before they could turn around. "Oh, horrors!" gasped Virginia under her breath. "Why, Sam!" laughed Mrs. Harris, "you want me to dance with you again and Virginia here?" "Oh, no, not you! I mean her, auntie. If you please," and he bowed to Virginia as he offered her his arm. Without an instant's hesitation she accepted his arm and at the same time so artfully masked her real feelings that the hot blood raced with joyous glee to the very roots of his hair and caused him to say proudly, "Ha, ha! at last, eh, auntie!" "I shall be a witness, Sam," replied his aunt in a tone which conveyed a warning. On ascending the steps Virginia paused to gather up her skirt, turned half around and looked very significantly at Rutley. He met her glance and bowed. The action brought Mrs. Harris also to a stop. Observing the halt, Mr. Thorpe exclaimed, "His Grace and myself will be along presently. Au revoir." And as the party moved on, Sam rejoined under his breath, "I guess so, but not with his fair party, not if Sam knows it." In the silence that followed for both men, now being alone, were alert, instinctively apprehending danger, John Thorpe drew from the inside pocket of his coat a small cigar case and tendered it to Rutley. Silently and with studied poise, Rutley took therefrom a cigar and returned the case. Thorpe then took from the case a match, lighted and offered it to Rutley, who, having meanwhile clipped the end of the cigar with a penknife, accepted the light and then broke the silence with, "Are you not going to smoke, Thorpe?" "Not at present. A stroll through the grounds is more to my fancy." "Agreed!" promptly responded Rutley, who added, "and may the exercise lighten your spirits, which appear heavy tonight." "Yes, unfortunately I have never been able to conceal my emotions, hence the correctness of your conjecture. My spirits are heavy tonight," replied Thorpe in a low voice and with a deep, long drawn sigh. It was plain to Rutley that Thorpe was evading an abrupt approach to some potent question in his mind, feverishly eager, yet dreading the kind of information it might elicit. "Bad digestion, Thorpe. Headaches, troubled dreams and the like fellow," suggested Rutley in his jerky manner. "Deeper!" added Thorpe in a low voice. "Ha!" exclaimed Rutley significantly, as he eyed his companion askance. "Family!" "Oh, God! what shall I do?" suddenly broke from Thorpe in a stifled cry of anguish. "I cannot carry the load!" And then he did that which some readers might term a cowardly thing. No doubt he was actuated by motives irresistibly impelling in a man of his peculiarly sensitive nature.