“Do you mean to stick to Belem?”

“No.”

“I thought so.  But what has come over Des. lately?  He is spoony.”

“He is going backward, may be, to some course he omitted in his career with you fellows.  We must run the same round somehow, you know.”

“He’ll not find much reason for it, when he arrives,” Mr. Devereaux said.

Miss Munster joined us, with the intention of breaking up our conclave, and soon moved away, with Mr. Digby and Devereaux in her train.

“I have changed my mind,” said Ben, “about going home with you.”

“Are your plans growing complicated again?”

“Can you go to Surrey alone?”

“Why not, pray?”

“I have an idea of going to Switzerland to spend the summer.  Will Veronica be ready in the autumn?”

“How can I answer?  Shall you not take leave of her?”

“Perhaps.  Yes,—­I must,” he said excitedly; “but to-morrow we will talk more about it.  I shall go to Boston with you; pa is going too.  How well you look to-night, Cassy!  What sort of dress is this?” taking up a fold of it.  “Is it cotton-silk, or silk-cotton?  It is soft and light.  How delicate you are, with your gold hair and morning-glory eyes!”

“How poetical!  My dress is new, and was made by Adelaide’s dressmaker.”

“Mother beckons me.  What a headdress that is of hers!”

“What beckons you to go to Switzerland?” I mused.

I listened for Desmond’s voice, which would have sounded like a silver bell, in the loud, coarse buzz which pervaded the rooms.  All the women were talking shrill, and the men answering in falsetto.  He was not among them, and I moved to and fro unnoticed, for the tide of entertainment had set in, and I could withdraw, if I chose.  I took a chair near an open door, commanded a view into a small room, on the other side of the hall, opened only on occasions like these; there was no one in it.  Perceiving that my shoelace was untied, I stooped to refasten it, and when I looked in the room again saw Desmond standing under the chandelier, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the floor, his hair disordered and falling over his forehead; its blackness was intense against the relief of the crimson wall-paper.  Was it that which had unaccountably changed his appearance?

He raised his head, looked across the hall, and saw me.

“Come here,” he signaled.  I rose like an automaton, and cast an involuntary glance about me; the guests were filing through the drawing-room, into the room where refreshments were laid.  When the last had gone, I left the friendly protection of the niche by the fire-place, and stood so near him that I saw his nostrils quiver!  Then there came into his face an expression of pain, which softened it.  I had wished him to please me; now I wished to please him.  It seemed that he had no intention of speaking, and that he had called me to him to witness a struggle which I must find a key