down in sand. Behind
them came a jaunty-looking girl with light-footed carriage. The wind
was ruffling and tossing her hair and she held to her hat as she
stopped under the orange trees to look upon the prospect.

But the eyes watching her did not turn, knowing the scene on which she
was gazing. It was Lake Nancy, long and lizard-like--its sapphire
water shimmering beneath the breeze--stretching westward between
curving, twisting, inletted shores, fringed near at hand with the
bright green of young oranges and lemons, and farther on by the darker
live-oak and pine, while on the opposite side the line of forest
stretched heavy and sombre, trailing grey moss hoariness into Nancy's
lapping wave.

And while the girl gazed on Nancy the young man watched her with a
curious intentness but with no doubt. Then he walked in the length of
the pier to meet them. As the girl's eyes came round to him she
changed to a startled pallor, white as her serge gown, and her eyes
dilated, then into them came eagerness.

Except for a tightening pull on muscles about nose and mouth the young
fellow stood impassive.

The colour rushed back into the girl's face. The young man had turned
and was shaking hands with Mr. Henderson. The minister was mentioning
names, too, but the girl had her back to them and was studying the
outstretch. Her head was high.

When she turned again Mr. Henderson was carefully piloting the other
lady into the boat. "Malise," that lady was calling. Malise, forced by
this to come and be helped in, found herself in the stern. But her
throat, because of a choked-back sob, hurt, and a vast homesickness
and sense of futility was upon her.

When presently she could look up and around the little craft was
skimming out across the lake to deep water, where it shifted westward
and flew into the dying afternoon.

There were billowy puffs of clouds high above, softly flushing into
rose with a golden fleeciness to their edges. Her mother's talk and
dulcet-toned laughter reached the girl, punctuated with the serious
accents of Mr. Henderson. The two were sitting where the seats,
running about, came together at the bow, and he, with an elbow on the
rail, was looking at Molly. Such a wistful, pretty child she looked in
her white canvas dress, with her wind-blown, gauzy veil fluttering
from her hat.

Alexina's eyes were fixed on them, but she was conscious, too, of a
gaze on her, which for all her hot pride and hurt she could n