"I reached the house somewhat later than usual. People were there. I must have looked different from usual. I know I was very silent, and I must have acted queer, you know. But they were all talking, and playing, and laughing, and none of them took any particular notice. And so at last I drifted off toward Louie, as usual. She was expecting me. I knew that. She always expects me. But this time I saw she was looking at me with a very queer expression. She saw something unusual in my face. Naturally enough. I felt as though I had committed a murder. And so I had. I had murdered my hope--my love--my darling--my only life and joy. I'm not humbugging, Macrorie--don't chaff, for Heaven's sake!" I wasn't chaffing, and had no idea of such a thing. I was simply listening, with a very painful sympathy with Jack's evident emotion. "We were apart from the others," he continued, in a tremulous voice. "She looked at me, and I looked at her. I saw trouble in her face, and she saw trouble in mine. So we sat. We were silent for some time. No nonsense now. No laughter. No more teasing and coaxing. Poor little Louie! How distressed she looked! Where was her sweet smile now? Where was her laughing voice? Where was her bright, animated face--her sparkling eyes--her fun--her merriment--her chaff? Poor little Louie!" And Jack's voice died away into a moan of grief. But he rallied again, and went on: "She asked me what was the matter. I told her--nothing. But she was sure that something had happened, and begged me to tell her. So I told her all. And her face, as I told her, turned as white as marble. She seemed to grow rigid where she sat. And, as I ended, she bent down her head--and she pressed her hand to her forehead--and then she gave me an awful look--a look which will haunt me to my dying day--and then--and then--then--she--she burst into tears--and, oh, Macrorie--oh, how she cried!" And Jack, having stammered out this gave way completely, and, burying his face in his hands, he sobbed aloud. Then followed a long, long silence. At last Jack roused himself. "You see, Macrorie," he continued, "I had been acting like the devil to her. All her chaff, and nonsense, and laughter, had been a mask. Oh, Louie! She had grown fond of me--poor miserable devil that I am--and this is the end of it all! "She got away," said Jack, after another long silence--"she got away somehow; and, after she had gone, I sat for a while, feeling like a man who has died and got into another world. Paralyzed, bewildered--take any word you like, and it will not express what I was. I got off somehow--I don't know how--and here I am. I haven't seen her since.