was paler, and there was a worn
and restless look in the long-suffering, almost colourless eyes.

"I'm sorry I made such a fuss about Mr. Johnstone," said Clare softly,
after a short pause.

"No, darling," answered her mother instantly. "I dare say I have been a
little over careful. I don't know--I had a sort of presentiment that you
might take a fancy to him."

"I know. You said so the first day. But I sha'n't, mother. You need not
be at all afraid. He is not at all the sort of man to whom I should ever
take a fancy, as you call it."

"I don't see why not," said Mrs. Bowring thoughtfully.

"Of course--it's hard to explain." Clare smiled. "But if that is what
you are afraid of, you can leave us alone all day. My 'fancy' would be
quite, quite different."

"Very well, darling. At all events, I'll try not to turn into a duenna."

Johnstone did not appear again until dinner, and then he was unusually
silent, only exchanging a remark with Clare now and then, and not once
leaning forward to say a few words to Mrs. Bowring as he generally did.
The latter had at first thought of exchanging places with her daughter,
but had reflected that it would be almost a rudeness to make such a
change after the second day.

They went out upon the terrace, and had their coffee there. Several of
the other people did the same, and walked slowly up and down under the
vines. Mrs. Bowring, wishing to destroy as soon as possible the
unpleasant impression she had created, left the two together, saying
that she would get something to put over her shoulders, as the air was
cool.

Clare and Johnstone stood by the parapet and looked at each other. Then
Clare leaned with her elbows on the wall and stared in silence at the
little lights on the beach below, trying to make out the shapes of the
boats which were hauled up in a long row. Neither spoke for a long time,
and Clare, at least, felt unpleasantly the constraint of the unusual
silence.

"It is a beautiful place, isn't it?" observed Johnstone at last, for the
sake of hearing his own voice.

"Oh yes, quite beautiful," answered the young girl in a
half-indifferent, half-discontented tone, and the words ended with a
sort of girlish sniff.

Again there was silence. Johnstone, standing up beside her, looked
towards the hotel, to see whether Mrs. Bowring were coming back. But she
was anxious to appear indifferent to their being together, and was in no
hurry to return. Johnstone sat down upo