Then came the fierce, passionate, profuse weeping—­the spring freshet of a woman’s soul.

—­She heard a low knock at the door.  She remained perfectly silent.  Another knock.  Still she did not move.

The door was tried.

Hope Wayne raised her head, but said nothing.

There was a louder knock, and the voice of Fanny Newt: 

“Miss Wayne, are you asleep?  Please let me in.”

It was useless to resist longer.  Hope Wayne opened the door, and Fanny Newt entered.  Hope sat down with her back to the window.

“I heard you come in,” said Fanny, “and I did not hear you go out; so I knew you were still here.  But I was afraid you would oversleep yourself, and miss the ball.”

Hope replied that she had not been sleeping.

“Not sleeping, but sitting in the moonlight, all alone?” said Fanny.  “How romantic!”

“Is it?”

“Yes, of course it is!  Why, Mr. Dinks and I are romantic every evening.  He will come and sit in the moonlight, and listen to the music.  What an agreeable fellow he is!” And Fanny tried to see Hope’s face, which was entirely hidden.

“He is my cousin, you know,” replied Hope.

“Oh yes, we all know that; and a dangerous relationship it is too,” said Fanny.

“How dangerous?”

“Why, cousins are such privileged people.  They have all the intimacy of brothers, without the brotherly right of abusing us.  In fact, a cousin is naturally half-way between a brother and a lover.”

“Having neither brother nor lover,” said Hope, quietly, “I stop half-way with the cousin.”

Fanny laughed her cold little laugh.  “And you mean to go on the other half, I suppose?” said she.

“Why do you suppose so?” asked Hope.

“It is generally understood, I believe,” said Fanny, “that Mr. Alfred Dinks will soon lead to the hymeneal altar his beautiful and accomplished cousin, Miss Hope Wayne.  At least, for further information inquire of Mrs. Budlong Dinks.”  And Fanny laughed again.

“I was not aware of the honor that awaited me,” replied Hope.

“Oh no! of course not.  The family reasons, I suppose—­”

“My mind is as much in the dark as my body,” said Hope.  “I really do not see the point of the joke.”

“Still you don’t seem very much surprised at it.”

“Why should I be?  Every girl is at the mercy of tattlers.”

“Exactly,” said Fanny.  “They’ve had me engaged to I don’t know how many people.  I suppose they’ll doom Alfred Dinks to me next.  You won’t be jealous, will you?”

“No,” said Hope, “I’ll congratulate him.”

Fanny Newt could not see Hope Wayne’s face, and her voice betrayed nothing.  She, in fact, knew no more than when she came in.

“Good-by, dear, a ce soir!” said she, as she sailed out of the room.

Hope lingered for some time at the window.  Then she rang for candles, and sat down to write a letter.