fastened them, blushing, blissful,
in the lace-fringed opening of her gown, through which, soft and creamy,
shone the perfect neck.

"Daisy, tell my fortune, pray:
He loves me not,--he loves me,"

she blithely sang, then, hurrying to the gate, shaded her eyes with the
shapely hand and gazed intently. 'Twas nearing eight,--nearing
breakfast-time. But some one was coming. Horrid! Captain Chester, of all
men! Coming, of course, to see papa, and papa not yet down, and mamma
had a headache and had decided not to come down at all, she would
breakfast in her room. What girl on earth when looking and longing and
waiting for the coming of a graceful youth of twenty-six would be
anything but dismayed at the substitution therefor of a bulky,
heavy-hearted captain of forty-six, no matter if he were still
unmarried? And yet her smile was sweet and cordial.

"Why, good-morning, Captain Chester. I'm so glad to see you this bright
day. Do come in and let me give you a rose. Papa will soon be down." And
she opened the gate and held forth one long, slim hand. He took it
slowly, as though in a dream, raising his forage-cap at the same time,
yet making no reply. He was looking at her far more closely than he
imagined. How fresh, how radiant, how fair and gracious and winning!
Every item of her attire was so pure and white and spotless; every fold
and curve of her gown seemed charged with subtile, delicate fragrance,
as faint and sweet as the shy and modest wood-violet's. She noted his
silence and his haggard eyes. She noted the intent gaze, and the color
mounted straightway to her forehead.

"And have you no word of greeting for me?" she blithely laughed,
striving to break through the awkwardness of his reserve, "or are you
worn out with your night watch as officer of the day?"

He fairly started. Had she seen him, then? Did she know it was he who
stood beneath her window, he who leaped in chase of that scoundrel, he
who stole away with that heavy tell-tale ladder? and, knowing all this,
could she stand there smiling in his face, the incarnation of maiden
innocence and beauty? Impossible! Yet what could she mean?

"How did you know I had so long a vigil?" he asked, and the cold,
strained tone, the half-averted eyes, the pallor of his face, all struck
her at once. Instantly her manner changed:

"Oh, forgive me, captain. I see you are all worn out; and I'm keeping
you here at the gate. Come to the piazza and sit down. I'll tell