e proceeding, and the moon showing herself at their
stern. The sea was so calm, that the soft hiss produced by the
bursting of the innumerable bubbles of foam behind the paddles could be
distinctly heard. The passengers who did not dance, including Cytherea
and Springrove, lapsed into silence, leaning against the paddle-boxes,
or standing aloof--noticing the trembling of the deck to the steps of
the dance--watching the waves from the paddles as they slid thinly and
easily under each other's edges.

Night had quite closed in by the time they reached Budmouth harbour,
sparkling with its white, red, and green lights in opposition to the
shimmering path of the moon's reflection on the other side, which
reached away to the horizon till the flecked ripples reduced themselves
to sparkles as fine as gold dust.

'I will walk to the station and find out the exact time the train
arrives,' said Springrove, rather eagerly, when they had landed.

She thanked him much.

'Perhaps we might walk together,' he suggested hesitatingly. She looked
as if she did not quite know, and he settled the question by showing the
way.

They found, on arriving there, that on the first day of that month
the particular train selected for Graye's return had ceased to stop at
Anglebury station.

'I am very sorry I misled him,' said Springrove.

'O, I am not alarmed at all,' replied Cytherea.

'Well, it's sure to be all right--he will sleep there, and come by the
first in the morning. But what will you do, alone?'

'I am quite easy on that point; the landlady is very friendly. I must go
indoors now. Good-night, Mr. Springrove.'

'Let me go round to your door with you?' he pleaded.

'No, thank you; we live close by.'

He looked at her as a waiter looks at the change he brings back. But she
was inexorable.

'Don't--forget me,' he murmured. She did not answer.

'Let me see you sometimes,' he said.

'Perhaps you never will again--I am going away,' she replied in
lingering tones; and turning into Cross Street, ran indoors and
upstairs.

The sudden withdrawal of what was superfluous at first, is often felt as
an essential loss. It was felt now with regard to the maiden. More, too,
after a meeting so pleasant and so enkindling, she had seemed to imply
that they would never come together again.

The young man softly followed her, stood opposite the house and watched
her come into the upper room with the light. Presently his gaze was cut
short