step crossed the room to where Margaret was
standing, taking some cake from Mrs. Thorne's shining old mahogany
sideboard.

This champion of love, as she made her little transit, was seen to be
attired in a gown of figured green delaine, the plain untrimmed skirt,
which was gathered at the waist, touching the floor. The upper part of
this garment had the appearance of being worn over a night-dress. But
this was because Penelope believed in all persons presenting themselves
"exactly as Nature made them." She therefore presented herself in that
way; and it was seen that Nature had made her with much shoulder-blade
and elbow, a perfectly flat chest, over which the green gown was tightly
drawn, to expand below, however (with plenty of room to show the
pattern), over one of those large, loose, flat waists concerning which
the possessors, for unexplained reasons, always cherish evident pride.
In the way of collar, Penelope had a broad white ruffle, which, however,
in spite of broadness, was loose enough in front (though fastened with a
large shell-cameo breastpin) to betray, when she turned, two
collar-bones and an inch of neck below. An edge of black lace, upon
which bugles had been sewed, adorned her sleeves; she wore a black silk
bonnet with a purple flower, and black kid gloves with one button. Her
black shawl, with a stella border, lay on a chair.

"Dear Mrs. Harold," she said, when she reached the sideboard, "we are
thinking only of Garda. Do content us if you can,--relieve our anxiety;
we have the most complete confidence in you."

"There's no reason why you should have it."

But the southern woman took her hands. "Something has vexed you, of
course I don't know what; we should be very fond of you, Margaret, if
you would let us; perhaps some day you will let us. But this, meanwhile,
is another matter, _this_ is about Garda."

"Yes, it's another matter," answered Margaret. She drew her hands away,
but her voice took on its old sweetness again. "Don't feel in the least
troubled, Mrs. Moore; there's no cause for it. If you want my opinion,
here it is: I think he loves her; I think he has loved her, though
possibly without knowing it, for some time."

And, ringing for Telano, she gave her orders about the wine, and sent
for Mr. Moore--in case he had completed his inspection of the roses.

CHAPTER XVIII.

One beautiful morning towards the last of November three skiffs were
making their way up a tide-water cr