I suppose every one in the room saw us go out: I was in terror when I
thought what an insult it would seem to Mr. Langenau. We walked about
the piazza for some time; I am afraid Mr. Kilian found me rather dull,
for I could only listen to what was going on inside. At last he was
called away by a man from the stable, who brought some alarming account
of his beloved Tom or Jerry. If I had been his bride at the altar, I am
sure he would have left me; being only a new and very faintly-lighted
flame, he hurried off with scarcely an apology.

I sat down in a piazza-chair, just outside the window at which we had
been sitting. I looked in at the window, but no one could see me, from
the position of my chair.

Presently Mr. Langenau left the piano, and Mary Leighton, talking to him
with effusion, walked across the room beside him, and took her seat at
this very window. He did not sit down, but stood before her with his hat
in his hand, as if he only awaited a favorable pause to go away.

"Ah, where did Pauline go?" she said, glancing around. "But I suppose we
must excuse her, for to-night at least, as he has just come home. I
imagine the engagement was no surprise to you?"

"Of what engagement do you speak?" he said.

"Why! Pauline and Richard Vandermarck; you know it is quite a settled
thing. And very good for her, I think. He seems to me just the sort of
man to keep her steady and--well, improve her character, you know. She
seems such a heedless sort of girl. They say her mother ran away and
made some horrid marriage, and, I believe, her uncle has had to keep her
very strict. He is very much pleased, I am told, with marrying her to