Their appearance and manner of greeting caused secret exultation in the black hearts that they expected would be offered to them that night, but Edith looked so noble as well as beautiful that Gus rather trembled in view of his part in the proposed tragedy. As warm and gentle as had been her greeting, she did not appear like a girl that could be safely trifled with. However, Gus knew his one source of courage and kept up on brandy all day, and he proposed a heavier onslaught than ever on poor Mrs. Allen's wine. But Edith did not bring it out. She meant that all that was said that night should be spoken in sober earnest. They sat down to cards for a while after tea, during which conversation was rather forced, consisting mainly of extravagant compliments from the gentlemen, and tender, meaning glances which the girls did not resent. Mrs. Allen languidly joined them for a while, and excused herself saying: "My poor head has been too heavily taxed of late," though how, save as a small distillery of helpless tears, we do not remember. The regret of the young men at being deprived of her society was quite affecting in view of the fact that they had often wished her dead and out of the way. "Why should we shut ourselves up within walls this lovely spring evening, this delicious earnest of the coming summer?" said Mr. Van Dam to Zell. "Come, put on your shawl and show me your garden by moonlight." Zell exultingly complied, believing that now she would show him, not their poor little garden, but the paradise of requited love. A moment later her graceful form, bending like a willow toward him, vanished in the dusky light of the rising moon, down the garden path which led to the little arbor. Gus, having the parlor to himself, went over to the sofa, seated himself by the side of Edith and sought to pass his arm around her waist. "You have no right," again said Edith with dignity, shrinking away. "But will you not give the right? Behold me a suppliant at your feet," said Gus tenderly, but comfortably keeping his seat. "Mr. Elliot," said Edith earnestly, "do you realize that you are asking a poor girl to marry you?" "Your own beautiful self is beyond all gold," said Gus gushingly. "You did not think so a month ago," retorted Edith bitterly. "I was a fool. My friends discouraged it, but I find I cannot live without you." This sounded well to poor Edith, but she said half sadly: "Perhaps your friends are right. You cannot afford to marry me." "But I cannot give you up," said Gus with much show of feeling. "What would my life be without you? I admit to you that my friends are opposed to my marriage, but am I to blight my life for them? Am I, who have seen the best of New York for years, to give up the loveliest girl I have ever seen in it? I cannot and I will not," concluded Gus tragically. "And are you willing to give up all for me?" said Edith feelingly, her glorious eyes becoming gentle and tender.