To-and-fro, to-and-fro, with hurried, restless tread, Erma Wysong walked her parlor floor, forgetful of the young man who sat in a corner and gazed at her, with all of his powers of sight apparently doing double duty. Her hair, slightly coarse of thread, glistening as if in pride of its extreme blackness, was combed away from a brow that was exceedingly pretty and formed a part of a head that forewarned you to expect the possessor thereof to have an intellect of a very high order. A few unruly locks of her glossy hair had escaped from the grasp confining the others backward, and were hanging forward as if to peep into her tender brown eyes so full of soul; or, to tantalize a very prettily formed nose; or, to tempt a bite from a row of pearls even and gleamingly white; or, to nestle upon a cheek the tenderness and ruddiness of which were standing invitations for gentle pressure.

Erma, nearly tall, a happy medium between the plump and the lithe, the perfection of symmetry, her whole frame a series of divinely fashioned curves, paced to and fro, her beautiful face wearing a look of mental perplexity. First her right hand and then her left tossed back with a nervous jerk the straying locks.

Astral Herndon, a tall and exceedingly handsome young man, who was paying her a call, sat in an armchair in a corner of the small room, and, with body bent forward, was looking intently at Erma, as has been stated, his entire soul ablaze with curiosity to know what had so operated upon the mind of the erstwhile winsome, laughing, merry Erma, as to cause her to break off abruptly an ordinary conversation and begin her restless journeyings to-and-fro across her parlor floor, vouchsafing to him not a word of apology or explanation, and apparently oblivious of his presence. The transition from the lively gay to the deathly sad, was so quick, so queer, so utterly inconsistent with all that he had hitherto known of Erma—it was so far from anything warranted by the rather commonplace conversation in which they had been engaged, that he was very naturally in the depths of wonderland, staring with all his might. He saw her thin, red lips quiver, as if with deep emotion. He saw repressed by a would-be secret bite of the lips, an entire flood of tears, save a truant one, that would steal its way down anyhow. He saw a clasping, a griping of the hands as though the fair one was being hurried to the verge of despair. He could, as it were, trace in her actions the progress that her mind was making toward a precipice, reluctant to go and yet impelled by some irresistible force.

Astral Herndon sat watching her, his surprise and curiosity deepening into concern and anxiety. At length, when he could bear it no longer, he arose and said in a low, sweet voice that trembled with emotion, "Erma!" Something in his voice went straight to Erma's wandering soul, and, as though not of herself, she turned slowly around and mechanically lifted her gaze to meet the dark, glowing eyes of Astral Herndon. She felt her soul leave her with a rush and run to embrace a mate that was coming forth from the eyes before her, and she cried, "Oh! I see! Oh! I see! Oh! I see!" and unconsciously stretched out her arms toward Astral as if to receive him. Astral advanced toward Erma, but this movement on his part broke the spell and she shrank away from him and sat down.

Astral was now more mystified than ever. He vaguely felt that somehow he was intermingled with Erma's thoughts, but as to how it had come about, or as to what was the nature of her thoughts regarding him, he was in absolute ignorance. Erma, now fully conscious of how she had been acting, vainly sought to redeem herself by an endeavor to conduct an animated conversation, not offering, however, to Astral any explanation of her seeming rudeness to him. But after a heroic struggle to keep up the conversation, she blurted out, all of a sudden, "Mr. Herndon, do you not, can you not see that I am in the deepest sort of trouble? Why do you not get up and go home?" Saying this, she fell to sobbing violently, burying her face in her hands. Astral arose and got his hat and went on tiptoe to the door. Just before he went out, he cast a look of deepest love at the weeping girl. If he had only gone to her and lifted her to a resting place on his bosom—but the Unseen power that ordains that two souls shall journey through earth together, also chooses, it would seem, the hallowed spot; chooses the precious and never to be forgotten moment when soul is unveiled to soul; chooses the exact degree of the development that shall exist in each at the hour of the mating.

So, the Unseen sent Astral forth and not to Erma's side. As he stepped out upon the doorstep, the queen of the night wrapped his noble brow with her silver cords in wanton playfulness. The city clock was striking the hour of ten, rather dolefully, he thought. He slowly wended his way toward his home, stopping ever and anon to cast a look of love, mingled with perplexity, in the direction of Erma's residence. "Strange, sweet girl," he murmured softly to himself, "I thought that I knew her." Time and again he stopped, and, looking in her direction, repeated this monologue. At last he reached home, and throughout the sleepless night uttered the self-same words.

As for Erma, she sat in the exact attitude in which he left her. The hours of the night, aided by the light of the moon, groped their way through a sleeping world. At length the birds, ere they went forth in quest of their daily bread, held their morning praise service, as if to rebuke the prayerless man. From their little hearts and throats quivering with joyous emotions, they told the God of the sparrow how glad they were that they were yet allowed to flit about in his glorious world. The sun, remembering his many unfinished tasks of the previous day, and suspicious ever of the work of the night, came bolting upward and hurled his myriad pointed spear to strike down the morning mists that sulkily obscured his vision. The awakened world came rushing forth from the land of sleep and dream.

But Erma, beautiful morning glory, bruised over night and failing to respond to the greeting kiss of the returning Sun, began the performance of her duties, perplexed in mind, sad at heart, weary from much thinking, desponding of a solution of the problems that fretted her spirit.