insisted.

"Opinions differ," she remarked.

"If it will advantage any----"

"I didn't say so," she interrupted.

"----I can tell you----"

"Many fables, I don't doubt!" she cut in, again.

"----that we have been rather intimate, for a few years, and I have
never before known him to exhibit particular interest in any woman."

"'Why don't you speak for yourself, John,'" she quoted, merrily.

"Because, to be frank, I haven't enough for two," he answered, gayly.

But beneath the gayety, she thought she detected the faintest note of
regret. So! there was some one!

And, woman-like, when he had gone, she wondered about her--whether she
was dark or fair, tall or small, vivacious or reserved, flirtatious or
sedate, rich or poor--and whether they loved each other--or whether it
was he, alone, who loved--or whether he had not permitted himself to be
carried so far--or whether--then, she dropped asleep.

Croyden went back to Clarendon, keeping a sharp look-out for anyone
under the trees around the house. He found Moses in the library,
evidently just aroused from slumber by the master's door key.

"No one's bin heah, seh, 'cep de boy wid dis 'spatch," he hastened to
say.

Croyden tore open the envelope:--It was a wire from Macloud, that he
would be down to-morrow.

"You may go to bed, Moses."

"Yass, seh! yass, seh!--I'se pow'ful glad yo's back, seh. Nothin' I kin
git yo befo I goes?"

"Nothing!" said Croyden. "You're a good soldier, Moses, you didn't
sleep on guard."

"No, seh! I keps wide awake, Marster Croyden, wide awake all de time,
seh. Survent, seh!" and, with a bow, he disappeared.

Croyden finished his cigar, put out the light, and went slowly
upstairs--giving not a thought to the Parmenter treasure nor the man he
had met outside. His mind was busy with Elaine Cavendish--their last
night on the moonlit piazza--the brief farewell--the lingering pressure
of her fingers--the light in her eyes--the subdued pleasure, when they
met unexpectedly in Annapolis--her little ways to detain him, keep him
close to her--her instant defense of him at Mattison's scurrilous
insinuation--the officers' hop--the rhythmic throb of the melody--the
scented, fluttering body held close in his arms--the lowered head--the
veiled eyes--the trembling lashes--his senses steeped in the fragrance
of her beauty--the temptation well-nigh irresistible--his resolution
almost gone--trembling--trembling----

* *