ce-chair. She had
known poverty, a veritable struggle for existence; yet they hadn't
hardened her in the least. No one I had ever met had possessed a
sweeter, truer outlook, an unfeigned friendliness and comradeship
for every decent thing that lived. Maybe you'd call it a childish
simplicity, but I didn't stop to consider what it was. I only knew
that she was the prettiest and the sweetest girl I'd ever seen, and
I was going to spend every moment possible in her presence.

Oh, but I loved to hear her laugh! I kept my brain busy thinking up
things to say to her, that might waken that rippling sound of silver
bells! I liked to see her eyes grow serious, and her lips half-pout as
some delightful, fanciful thought played hide-and-seek in her mind. She
had imagination, this niece of Grover Nealman. Perhaps, after all, it
was the secret of her charm. I didn't doubt for a moment but that she
read romantic novels by the score, but I, for one, wouldn't hold the
fact against her.

We talked over the legend of Jason's chest; and I was a little surprised
at her devoted interest in it. Evidently the savage tale had gone
straight home to her imagination. Whether she put the least credence in
it I couldn't tell.

It came about, in the twilight hour, that we walked together down to the
craggy shore of the lagoon. Then we stood and watched the light dying on
the blue-green water.

Once more the tide was rolling in. The waves beat with a startling fury
over and against the rock wall, and in the half-light the white stones
looked like the foam-covered fangs of a mighty sea-monster, raging at
our intrusion. The water swept through the little crevices in the wall,
and the cool spray, refreshing after the tropic day, swept against our
faces.

The gray sand stretched down to the desolate sea. A plover uttered his
disconsolate, wailing cry far out to sea. Some dark heron or bittern
rose croaking from beside the lagoon, then flapped awkwardly away. I
felt the girl's hand on my arm as she drew closer to my side.

A worthy place--this manor house of Nealman. Vague thoughts, not quite
in keeping with the ordered dimensions of life, had hold of my mind.
Presently the girl's grip tightened, and she pointed toward the lagoon.

I saw her face before I followed her gesture. I didn't get the idea that
she was frightened. Rather she was smiling, quietly, and her eyes
glistened.

Seventy yards out, and perhaps fifteen yards back from the Bridge,