more than once assailed him under the hunter's moon—that the scene was not real. That he was a shadow, facing shadows.
And the shadow called Winslow was saying: "If Louis marries Ethel, what will you do, Hildegarde?"
And the shadow which was Hildegarde was saying: "Oh, I'm done with both of you. I didn't know there were such men in the world!"
And the shadow which was himself was saying: "I am not going to marry Ethel, Hildegarde. I loved your mother."
The spell of his memories was still upon him. Ethel Hulburt had, for the moment, no meaning in his life. He was exalted, careless of consequences. "Do your worst," he told Winslow. "Hildegarde and I will stick it out together."
She came to him then, and they stood confronting Winslow triumphantly. "Oh, have it your way," he said with violence, "but I have a feeling that you'll see it differently in the morning. Shall we say at nine? In the library? You can—dream over it."
He mounted and rode off, taking Hildegarde's horse with him. When he was gone, Hildegarde cried in her father's arms and Louis swore that nothing else mattered if only they might be together. His mood was, he realized later, the madness of the hunter's moon. Subconsciously he knew, even while he made his earnest asseverations to his daughter, that the matter would have to be settled in some less emotional way with Winslow.
They sat on the stone bench, and he told her of the things he had been thinking of her mother. The moon
