On this night a close observer would have seen that Miller was laboring under some strong feeling.  A half-subdued fire gleamed from his dark eyes.  A peculiar nervous twitching of his nostrils betrayed a poorly suppressed excitement.

All evening he followed Betty like a shadow.  Her kindness may have encouraged him.  She danced often with him and showed a certain preference for his society.  Alice and Lydia were puzzled by Betty’s manner.  As they were intimate friends they believed they knew something of her likes and dislikes.  Had not Betty told them she did not care for Mr. Miller?  What was the meaning of the arch glances she bestowed upon him, if she did not care for him?  To be sure, it was nothing wonderful for Betty to smile,—­she was always prodigal of her smiles—­but she had never been known to encourage any man.  The truth was that Betty had put her new resolution into effect; to be as merry and charming as any fancy-free maiden could possibly be, and the farthest removed from a young lady pining for an absent and indifferent sweetheart.  To her sorrow Betty played her part too well.

Except to Wetzel, whose keen eyes little escaped, there was no significance in Miller’s hilarity one moment and sudden thoughtfulness the next.  And if there had been, it would have excited no comment.  Most of the young men had sampled some of old Dan’s best rye and their flushed faces and unusual spirits did not result altogether from the exercise of the dance.

After one of the reels Miller led Betty, with whom he had been dancing, into one of the side rooms.  Round the dimly lighted room were benches upon which were seated some of the dancers.  Betty was uneasy in mind and now wished that she had remained at home.  They had exchanged several commonplace remarks when the music struck up and Betty rose quickly to her feet.

“See, the others have gone.  Let us return,” she said.

“Wait,” said Miller hurriedly.  “Do not go just yet.  I wish to speak to you.  I have asked you many times if you will marry me.  Now I ask you again.”

“Mr. Miller, I thanked you and begged you not to cause us both pain by again referring to that subject,” answered Betty with dignity.  “If you will persist in bringing it up we cannot be friends any longer.”

“Wait, please wait.  I have told you that I will not take ‘No’ for an answer.  I love you with all my heart and soul and I cannot give you up.”

His voice was low and hoarse and thrilled with a strong man’s passion.  Betty looked up into his face and tears of compassion filled her eyes.  Her heart softened to this man, and her conscience gave her a little twinge of remorse.  Could she not have averted all this?  No doubt she had been much to blame, and this thought made her voice very low and sweet as she answered him.

“I like you as a friend, Mr. Miller, but we can never be more than friends.  I am very sorry for you, and angry with myself that I did not try to help you instead of making it worse.  Please do not speak of this again.  Come, let us join the others.”