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.He, too, wishes to cancel his engagements for the graduating ball, and thinks something ought to be done to those young idiots of yearlings who set off the torpedo."Nothing could have gone wrong but for them," says he; but the wise heads of the class promptly snub him into silence."You've simply got to do as we say in this matter, Billy.You've done enough mischief already." And so it results that the message he sends by Uncle Jack is: "Tell mother and Nan I'll meet them at the 'hop.' My confinements end at eight o'clock, but there's no use in my going to the hotel and tramping through the mud." The truth is, he cannot bear to meet Miriam Stanley, and 'twould be just his luck.One year ago no happier, bonnier, brighter face could have been seen at the Point than that of Nannie McKay.To-night, in all the throng of fair women and lovely girls, gathered with their soldier escort in the great mess-hall, there is none so sad.She tries hard to be chatty and smiling, but is too frank and honest a little soul to have much success.The dances that Phil Stanley had engaged months and months ago are accredited now to other names, and blissful young fellows in gray and gold come successively to claim them.But deep down in her heart she remembers the number of each.It was he who was to have been her escort.It was he who made out her card and gave it to her only a day or two before that fatal interview.It was he who was to have had the last waltz—the very last—that he would dance in the old cadet gray; and though new names have been substituted for his in other cases, this waltz she meant to keep.Well knowing that there would be many to beg for it, she has written Willy's name for "Stanley," and duly warned him of the fact.Then, when it comes, she means to escape to the dressing-room, for she is promptly told that her brother is engaged to Miss Waring for that very waltz.Light as are her feet, she never yet has danced with so heavy a heart.The rain still pours, driving everybody within doors.The heat is intense.The hall is crowded, and it frequently happens that partners cannot find her until near the end of their number on that dainty card.But every one has something to say about Phil Stanley and the universal regret at his absence.It is getting to be more than she can bear,—this prolonged striving to respond with proper appreciation and sympathy, yet not say too much,—not betray the secret that is now burning, throbbing in her girlish heart.He does not dream it, but there, hidden beneath the soft lace upon her snowy neck, lies that "knot of ribbon blue" which she so laughingly had given him, at his urging, the last day of her visit the previous year; the knot which he had so loyally treasured and then so sadly returned.A trifling, senseless thing to make such an ado about, but these hearts are young and ardent, and this romance of his has many a counterpart, the memory of which may bring to war-worn, grizzled heads to-day a blush almost of shame, and would surely bring to many an old and sometimes aching heart a sigh.Hoping against hope, poor Nannie has thought it just possible that at the last moment the authorities would relent and he be allowed to attend.If so,—if so, angry and justly angered though he might be, cut to the heart though he expressed himself, has she not here the means to call him back?—to bid him come and know how contrite she is? Hour after hour she glances at the broad archway at the east, yearning to see his dark, handsome face among the new-comers,—all in vain.Time and again she encounters Sallie Waring, brilliant, bewitching, in the most ravishing of toilets, and always with half a dozen men about her.Twice she notices Will among them with a face gloomy and rebellious, and, hardly knowing why, she almost hates her.At last comes the waltz that was to have been Philip's,—the waltz she has saved for his sake though he cannot claim it.Mr.Pennock, who has danced the previous galop with her, sees the leader raising his baton, bethinks him of his next partner, and leaves her at the open window close to the dressing-room door.There she can have a breath of fresh air, and, hiding behind the broad backs of several bulky officers and civilians, listen undisturbed to the music she longed to enjoy with him.Here, to her surprise, Will suddenly joins her."I thought you were engaged to Miss Waring for this," she says."I was," he answers, savagely; "but I'm well out of it.I resigned in favor of a big 'cit' who's worth only twenty thousand a year, Nan, and she has been engaged to him all this time and never let me know until to-night.""Willy!" she gasps."Oh! I'm so glad—sorry, I mean! I never did like her.""I did, Nan, more's the pity.I'm not the first she's made a fool of;" and he turns away, hiding the chagrin in his young face.They are practically alone in this sheltered nook.Crowds are around them, but looking the other way.The rain is dripping from the trees without and pattering on the stone flags.McKay leans out into the night, and the sister's loving heart yearns over him in his trouble."Willy," she says, laying the little white-gloved hand on his arm, "it's hard to bear, but she isn't worthy any man's love.Twice I've heard in the last two days that she makes a boast of it that 'twas to see her that some one risked his commission and so—kept Mr.Stanley from being here to-night.Willy, do you know who it was? Don't you think he ought to have come forward like a gentleman, days ago, and told the truth? Will! What is it? Don't look so! Speak to me, Willy,—your little Nan.Was there ever a time, dear, when my whole heart wasn't open to you in love and sympathy?"And now, just at this minute, the music begins again.Soft, sweet, yet with such a strain of pathos and of sadness running through every chord; it is the loveliest of all the waltzes played in his "First Class Camp,"—the one of all others he most loved to hear.Her heart almost bursts now to think of him in his lonely room, beyond hearing of the melody that is so dear to him, that is now so passionately dear to her,—"Love's Sigh." Doubtless, Philip had asked the leader days ago to play it here and at no other time.It is more than enough to start the tears long welling in her eyes.For an instant it turns her from thought of Willy's own heartache."Will!" she whispers, desperately."This was to have been Philip Stanley's waltz—and I want you to take—something to him for me."He turns back to her again, his hands clinched, his teeth set, still thinking only of his own bitter humiliation,—of how that girl has fooled and jilted him,—of how for her sake he had brought all this trouble on his stanchest friend."Phil Stanley!" he exclaims."By heaven! it makes me nearly mad to think of it!—and all for her sake,—all through me.Oh, Nan! Nan! I must tell you! It was for me,—to save me that——""Willy!" and there is almost horror in her wide blue eyes."Willy! "she gasps—"oh, don't—don't tell me that! Oh, it isn't true? Not you—not you, Willy.Not my brother! Oh, quick! Tell me."Startled, alarmed, he seizes her hand."Little sister! What—what has happened—what is——"But there is no time for more words.The week of misery; the piteous strain of the long evening; the sweet, sad, wailing melody,—his favorite waltz; the sudden, stunning revelation that it was for Willy's sake that he—her hero—was now to suffer, he whose heart she had trampled on and crushed! It is all more than mortal girl can bear
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