CHAPTER XVI.
A "WATCH-NIGHT" CONSECRATION.
THE office work for the old year was all done. Mr. Edmunds had locked his desk and gone home. David would soon follow. He had only some private correspondence to finish.
Bethany sat nervously assorting the letters in the different pigeon-holes of her desk. Ninety-five was slipping out into the eternities. It had brought her a prayed-for opportunity; it was carrying away a far different record from the one she had planned. She felt that she could not bear to have it go in that way, yet an unaccountable reticence sealed her lips.
David had been in the office very little during the past week, only long enough to get his mail. This afternoon he had a worried, preoccupied look that made it all the harder for Bethany to say what was trembling on her lips.
She heard him slipping the letter into the envelope. He would be gone in just another moment. Now he was putting on his overcoat. O, she must say something! Her heart beat violently, and her face grew hot. She shut her eyes an instant, and sent up a swift, despairing appeal for help.
David strolled into the room with his hat in his hand, and stood beside her table.
"Well, the old year is about over, Miss Hallam," he said, gravely. "It has brought me a great many unexpected experiences, but the most unexpected of all is the one that led to our acquaintance. In wishing you a happy new year, I want to tell you what a pleasure your friendship has been to me in the old."
Bethany found sudden speech as she took the proffered hand.