The sleigh-ride was a thing of the past. That it had brought disaster to Teola Graves showed in the tired eyes as they rested on the sky, gray with the coming morning. She had stolen silently into the house, reaching her chamber without disturbing either father or mother. At the window she halted. Here and there a star sparkled, dying dim in the advancing sky. Teola's eyes rested upon the street below for several minutes, then dragged her gaze upward and beyond--beyond to the long road that led to the yard of the dead which stretched over the hillside, rearing its monuments among the leafless trees, like sentinels over sleeping soldiers. There was something alluring, something compelling to the pale girl, watching the birth of her first real day of living. The University frowned down upon the graveyard; in its turn the graveyard frowned menacingly upon the town. A snow-bird peeped a "good-morning" to its mate in the Rectory eaves. A bell pealed out twice, striking the air with its sonorous sound reverberating into the hills. And still the girl stood waiting for--she knew not what. Yesterday girlhood offered Teola Graves happy hours of peaceful meditation--to-day, the new day brought the woman its ceaseless silent agony of regret and remorse, strong forces of which she had known nothing. If Dan were only glad that she loved him, if he loved her in return. Suddenly tears welled into the dark eyes; Teola Graves hid her face from the new world of painful joy--and forgot in sleep. Teola's next hour with her lover was the most embarrassing one of her life. Dan took her hands in silence, and the seriousness of his face bespoke his heart pain. "Sweetheart, is there anything in all the world that I can say to you to make you love me more--precious, precious little darling!" "Only say that you do love me, Dan," breathed Teola, "and--and--" "Don't turn your eyes away from me, sweetheart--love you, Teola? I'll study so hard, dearest, and when I finish college we'll get married, and go away and have a home of our own. Teola, forgive me and have faith in me! Will you, sweet?" "Yes," murmured the trembling lips--and Teola buried her flushed face upon the broad breast of Dan Jordan and was happy. * * * * * Frederick Graves had been made president of the freshman class, a short time after entering the "Cranium" fraternity. He was considered by most of his fellow students a serious, earnest worker and had been taken many times into consultation with the upper classmen concerning plans for the development of the society.