"Poor darling! I frightened her by my vehemence," he said, remorsefully, to himself. "Her beauty and her gentleness tempted me almost beyond my strength. Ah, she little dreamed what a struggle it cost to leave her there and to wait, still wait, although half maddened with love and longing." For him, too, the drowsy god tarried to-night, and he tossed sleeplessly on his pillow, dreaming of Una just as Una was dreaming of him, with infinite love and yearning. Weary with the night's restlessness, Una slept too soundly next morning for the breakfast-bell to rouse her from her slumbers. Eliot, who had to be at the office by a certain hour, fidgeted uneasily, and at last sent Edith to see if she was awake. In a minute she came out on tiptoe. "She is sleeping so sweetly, I had not the heart to wake her," she said. "But, Eliot, you might just slip in and kiss her good-bye in her sleep." Her keen young eyes saw the sensitive color mount to his temples. "Una would not like it," he replied, gravely. Candid Edith shut the door softly behind her, and gave her brother a playful little shake as she went with him along the hall. "Eliot, you are a great goose, that's what you are!" she cried. "Una is your wife. You have a right to go in her room and kiss her if you like, and I don't believe she would object, either!" With a sigh, he replied: "You must remember how sudden our marriage was, Edith. My little girl had no time to learn to love me, or get used to me. Is it not right that I should leave her in peace until I shall have won her heart as well as her hand?" Edith stared at him in wonder. "Eliot Van Zandt, you are as blind as a bat!" she exclaimed, and darted away without another word. But although she would not say another word to Eliot, she made up her mind to lecture Una. So the first thing when Una opened her heavy eyes, she saw Edith sitting demurely in the big willow rocker by the bedside. She burst out unceremoniously: "You lazy girl, you have slept until breakfast was over, and your husband gone down-town. Poor boy! he waited and waited outside your door for you to wake, but you just dreamed on until he had to go. I told him to slip in and kiss you good-bye in your sleep, but he was afraid you would be angry. I do say, Una Van Zandt, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." Una was sitting up in bed very wide awake indeed now, a lovely picture of amazement and distress, with her loose, golden hair falling on her half-bare, white shoulders, her eyes dilated with wonder, her cheeks flushed from sleep. "Oh, Edith, what have I done now? I don't know what you're talking about," she faltered.