She drew back and as she spoke she made evident but unavailing effort to keep all feeling out of her voice. “It’s no use for us to talk any more about it, Jeff. My mind is made up, and I’ve told you I can’t marry you. It only makes us the more unhappy to keep on talking about it. I think we’d better consider that it’s ended now, for good.” “No!” he exclaimed. “It isn’t ended! As long as you love me I’ll not give you up! I’ll go now, but some day I’m coming back, and I’ll win you yet, Rhoda Ware!” He seized her hand in both of his and held it against his heart. Taken aback by his sudden outburst she did not try to withdraw it, but let him press his lips twice and thrice upon it. Then, without another word, he strode out of the arbor, down the path, and was gone. CHAPTER VIII Dr. Ware noiselessly closed the door of his wife’s bedroom and walked softly downstairs. “Can we have supper at once, Rhoda?” he inquired of his daughter at the door of the dining-room. “Good! I’m called over to the other side of town and I want to get away as quickly as possible. It’s likely I’ll have to stay most of the night--maybe until morning. Are you intending to go to the party to-night?” “I was, father, but if you’re going to be away I’d better stay with mother. How is she to-night?” “It’s the worst attack of sick headache she’s had in a long time. But I hope she will soon be able to go to sleep, and if she sleeps well all night she will be much better to-morrow. She doesn’t want anything now, but you might look in very quietly after a little and see if she is asleep. Do you mind missing the party?” “No, not at all, father. But Charlotte--” she looked uncertainly across the table at her sister. “Do you think Charlotte better go without me?” “Of course you do, don’t you, father?” Charlotte promptly interrupted, with a coquettish look at Dr. Ware, to which he responded with a fond smile. “Isn’t Horace Hardaker a good enough chaperon for anybody?” she went on. “Horace Hardaker!” her father exclaimed in surprise. “What’s become of Billy Saunders? Have you quarreled?” “No--he hasn’t. He was impertinent this afternoon--wanted to kiss me, and I told him he shouldn’t speak to me for a month. So I asked Rhoda if I couldn’t go with her and Horace.” Dr. Ware laughed indulgently. “Horace will take good care of her, Rhoda. It’s all right for her to go with him. But I’m surprised, Charlotte,” he went on, frowning at her with mock seriousness, “that a young lady of your convictions should be willing to go to a party with a Black Abolitionist!” “Aren’t you afraid to let him go with me, father?” she mocked in reply, her eyes dancing. “Suppose I should convert him to slavery before we get back, and make him promise to vote for Buchanan!”