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“I have about decided to go down to Velvet Springs for the rest of the month. Don’t you think it is getting rather crowded here?”

“I have been pretty well satisfied,” he replied, in an injured tone. “I don’t see why you should want to leave here.”

“Why should I stay if I am tired of the place?” she asked demurely, casting a roguish glance at his sombre face. He clenched the parasol and grated his teeth.

“She’s leading me on, confound her!” he thought. At the same time his head whirled and his heart beat a little faster. “You shouldn’t,” he said, “if you are tired. There’s more of an attraction at Velvet Springs, I suppose.”

“Have you been there?”

“No.”

“You answered rather snappishly. Have you a headache?”

“Pardon me; I didn’t intend to answer snappishly, as you call it. I only wanted to be brief.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to change the subject.”

“Shall we talk of the weather?”

“I suppose we may as well,” he said resignedly. She was plainly laughing at him now. “Look here,” he said, stopping and looking into her eyes intently and somewhat fiercely, “why do you want to go to Velvet Springs?”

“Why should you care where I go?” she answered blithely, although her eyes wavered.

“It’s because you are unhappy here and because some one else is there. I’m not blind, Mrs.–Miss Dering.”

“You have no right to talk to me in that manner, Mr. Rollins. Come, we are to go back to the hotel at once,” she said coldly. There was steel in her eyes.

He met her contemptuous look for a moment and quailed.

“I beg your pardon. I am a fool, but you have made me such,” he said baldly.

“I? I do not understand you,” and he could not but admire the clever, innocent, widespread eyes.

“You will understand me some day,” he said, and to his amazement she flushed and looked away. They continued their walk, but there was a strange shyness in her manner that puzzled him.

“When is Dudley expected back here?” he asked abruptly.

She started sharply and gave him a quick, searching look. There was a guilty expression in her eyes, and he muttered something ugly under his breath.

“I do not know, Mr. Rollins,” she answered.

“When did you hear from him last?” he demanded half savagely.

“I do not intend to be catechized by you, sir,” she exclaimed, halting abruptly. “We shall go back. You are very ugly to-day and I am surprised.”

“I supposed you had letters from him every day,” he went on ruthlessly. She gave him a look in which he saw pain and the shadow of tears, and then she turned and walked swiftly toward the hotel. His conscience smote him and he turned after her. For the next ten minutes he was on his knees, figuratively, pleading for forgiveness. At last she paused and smiled sweetly into his face. Then she calmly turned and resumed the journey to Bald Top, saying demurely:

“We have nearly a quarter of a mile to retrace, all because you were so hateful.”

“And you so obdurate,” he added blissfully. He had tried to be severe and angry with her and had failed.

That very night the expected came to pass. Havens appeared on the scene, the same handsome, tragic-looking fellow, a trifle care-worn perhaps, but still–an evil genius. Rossiter ran plump into him in the hallway and was speechless for a moment. He unconsciously shook hands with the new arrival, but his ears were ringing so with the thuds of his heart that he heard but few of the brisk words addressed to him. After the eager actor had left him standing humbly in the hall he managed to recall part of what had been said. He had come up on the express from Boston and could stay but a day or two. Did Mr. Rossiter know whether Miss Dering was in her room? The barrister also distinctly remembered that he did not ask for his aunt, which would have been the perfectly natural query.