She stood on the balcony and waved her hand as the carriages drove away toward the station. Most of the guests went with them to see the bride and groom off. A stream of people poured down the stairs, laughing, chattering, calling back good-bys to June, as she stood by the door, pale but resolutely smiling. She noticed the three tall figures of the Colonel and the Gracey brothers as they crossed the street together, the Colonel turning to wave his hand to her. Her father had gone before them. Finally everybody had left, and she turned slowly back into the deserted house. How empty is was! Her footsteps echoed in it. She passed into the parlor, into which, from the broad bay-window the afternoon light poured coldly. Linen had been stretched over the carpet, and on this white and shining expanse the broken heads of roses and torn leaves lay here and there. The flowers in the recess where the bride and groom had stood were already fading, and the air was heavy with their dying sweetness. She looked into the dining-room at the expanse of the rifled table, where the mounds of fruit had been broken down by eager hands and the champagne bubbles rose languidly in the half-filled glasses. There were no servants about and the perfect silence of the house was more noticeable in this scene of domestic disorder. She had ascended the stairs and was looking out of a back window when she saw its explanation. From the kitchen entrance the servants, headed by the chef brought up from San Francisco for the wedding, stealthily emerged. Struggling into their coats and hastily jamming on their hats they ran in straggling line in the direction of the depot, intent, as the rest of the world, on seeing the bride depart. Last of all the Chinaman issued forth, and setting his soft felt wide-awake on his carefully uprolled queue, stole with soft-footed haste after them. Nothing can be more full of the note of human desolation than an occupied house suddenly vacated. June passed from room to room feeling the silence as part of the depression that weighed on her. Through the windows she could see the wild, morose landscape, beginning to take on the hectic strangeness of tint that marked its sunset aspect. Its weird hostility was suddenly intensified. It combined with the silence to augment her sense of loneliness to the point of the unendurable. She ran down the stairs and out on to the curve of balcony which extended from the front door. Some children were playing in the street below, and their voices came to her with a note of cheer. Leaning listlessly against the balustrade she looked up the street, wondering when her father would be back. She had ceased to note his comings and goings, but this evening she watched for his return as she might have done in her childhood. There was no sign of him, and might not be for hours. After the train left he would probably range about the town, whose night aspect he loved.