ed Colonel Pendleton. Had you known
him better, you would have seen how truthful that instinct was. His
chief fault in the eyes of our worthy friends is that he reminds them
of a great deal they can't perpetuate and much they would like to
forget." He checked himself abruptly. "But here is your letter," he
resumed, drawing Colonel Pendleton's missive from his pocket, "perhaps
you would like to read it now, in case you have any message to return
by me. Miss Woods and I will excuse you."

They had reached the end of the rose-alley, where a summer-house that
was in itself a rose-bower partly disclosed itself. The other
gentlemen had lagged behind. "I will amuse MYSELF, and console your
other guardian, dear," said the vivacious Milly, with a rapid exchange
of glances with Yerba, "until this horrid business is over. Besides,"
she added with cheerful vagueness, "after so long a separation you must
have a great deal to say to each other."

Paul smiled as she rustled away, and Yerba, entering the summer-house,
sat down and opened the letter. The young man remained leaning against
the rustic archway, occasionally glancing at her and at the moving
figures in the gardens. He was conscious of an odd excitement which he
could trace to no particular cause. It was true that he had been
annoyed at not finding the young girl at the convent, and at having to
justify himself to the Lady Superior for what he conceived to be an act
of gratuitous kindness; nor was he blind to the fact that his
persistence in following her was more an act of aggression against the
enemies of Pendleton than of concern for Yerba. She was certainly
pretty, he could not remember her mother sufficiently to trace any
likeness, and he had never admired the mother's pronounced beauty. She
had flashed out for an instant into what seemed originality and
feeling. But it had passed, and she had asked no further questions in
regard to the colonel.

She had hurriedly skimmed through the letter, which seemed to be
composed of certain figures and accounts. "I suppose it's all right,"
she said; "at least you can say so if he asks you. It's only an
explanation why he has transferred my money from the bank to
Rothschild's agent years ago. I don't see why it should interest me
NOW."

Paul made no doubt that it was the same transfer that had shipwrecked
the colonel's fortune and alienated his friends, and could not help
replying somewhat pointedly, "But I th