Hildegarde forced herself to get up. Bella put out the comforting light. But some things show plainer in the dark. Those symbols on the altar, they were only tendrils of smoke by day, or in the glare of gas. Now they were sparks of fire puncturing the blackness of the scented room. One fiery eye to watch over the fortunes of Nathaniel Mar, one to shine for Cheviot, and an unnamed third to pierce the darkness that shrouded the fate of that Other. Even when the two girls turned their backs, and groped their way to Bella’s room clinging hold of each other in the dark, the third spark not only shone before their inner vision still, it pricked each bosom with its point of fire. What would happen when he came back? Each wondered, and each held faster to the other with fear in the bottom of her heart. * * * * * Meanwhile, life outwardly went on pretty much the same. With Trenn and Harry, Eddie Cox and other swains, the girls went to parties and picnics, to concerts, and the theater, and did all the usual things. The one unusual thing those days brought was the Charles Trennor fancy ball. It was going to be a great affair, and Valdivia conversation for weeks had begun by some such statement as, “I’m going as the Goddess of Liberty. What shall you be?” Of course Trenn and Harry were coming up for the great occasion, and their costumes called for endless consultation with that great authority, Bella. They had, moreover, told their sister she might on this occasion be as glorious as ever she liked, and they would “foot the bill.” Hildegarde deeply appreciated such generosity, but what was more to the point, did Bella? She only said: “Yes, Hildegarde’s going to be glorious. But I don’t think it’s the kind of glory you can buy.” Even before the Mar boys had come forward in this magnificent way, Bella had decided that Hildegarde must go as Brunhild. Her gown was to be white cloth, embroidered with silver dragons—strictly adapted from an ancient Norse design. She was to wear silver sandals on her feet; on one bare arm would be a buckler, a spear in her right hand, and on her fair hair a silver helmet. Bella was going as Amy Robsart, and that was easy enough. It was those dragons of Hildegarde’s that took the time; and, as Bella had said, they wouldn’t have been easy to buy. She and Hildegarde were embroidering them every spare minute, day and night. Even now, though almost, they were not quite done, which was a pity. Trenn and Harry were coming up from Siegel’s again this evening—the excuse, the necessary inspection of Brunhild, at Bella’s express invitation. For this had been the one costume not ready in time for the “dress-rehearsal” two nights before, when Bella and “the boys” had put on their Elizabethan finery, and peacocked about in great spirits.