"Oh, I'm so sorry!" There was sympathy in the voice and in the look she
turned upon him, and the boy's heart sang rapturously. Perhaps weariness
and hunger and the girl's radiant twilit beauty combined to make him
light-headed; otherwise how account for his behavior? Or perhaps
starlight as well as moonlight may affect the brain; the theory is at
least plausible. Or perhaps no excuse is needed for him save that he was
twenty-three, and a Southerner! He leaned against the railing and
laughed softly and exultantly.

"I've found no gold," he said, "but I don't care about that now. For
I've found to-night what is a thousand times better!"

"Better than--than gold!" she faltered, trying to meet his gaze. "Why,
what--"

"The girl I love!" he whispered up to her.

She gasped, and the hand on the knob began to turn slowly. Even in the
twilight he could see the swift blood staining the ivory of her cheek.
His eyes found hers and held them.

"What is your name?" he asked, softly, imperatively.

Oh, surely there is some quality, some magic power in mountain starlight
undreamed of in our philosophy, for,

"Evelyn," whispered the girl, her wide eyes on his and a strange wonder
on her face.

"Evelyn!" he echoed radiantly. "Evelyn! Evelyn what?"