em, and then drooped down again far forward, the dark shade
beneath concealing them perfectly, in spite of Margaret's white robe.
Now the boat shot into sight. Its sail was up, white as silver, but as
there was no wind, Lucian was rowing. It was a small, light boat, almost
too small for the great silver sail; but that was what Lucian liked. He
kept on his course far out in the stream; he was bound for the mouth of
the harbor.

Garda gave a long sigh. "I ought to be there!" she murmured. "Oh, I
ought to be there!" She stood motionless, watching the boat come nearer,
pass, and disappear; then she turned and looked at Margaret in silence.

"We can go out to-morrow evening, if you like," said Margaret, ignoring
the expression of her face.

"Yes, at eight o'clock, I suppose, with Evert, and Mrs. Rosalie!"

"Would you prefer to go in the middle of the night?"

"Infinitely. And with Lucian alone."

"I should think that might be a little tiresome."

"Oh, come, don't pretend; you don't know how," said Garda, laughing. "At
heart you're as serious as death about all this--you know you are.
Tiresome, did you say? Just looking at him, to begin with--do you call
_that_ tiresome? And then the way he talks, the way he says things! Oh,
Margaret, I give you my word I _adore_ being amused as Lucian amuses
me." She turned as she said this and met Margaret's eyes fixed upon her.
"You can't understand it," she commented. "You can't understand that I
prefer Lucian to Evert."

Margaret turned from her. But the next instant she came back. "There are
some things I must ask you, Garda."

"Well, do stay here a little longer then, it's so lovely; we'll sit down
on the bench. But perhaps you'll be chilled--you're so lightly dressed.
What have you on your feet? Oh Margaret! only those thin shoes--no more
than slippers?" She took her shawl, and kneeling down, wrapped it round
Margaret's ankles. "What little feet you have!" she said, admiringly.
"It reminds me of my wet shoes that night on the barren," she added,
rising; and then, standing there with her hands clasped behind her, she
appeared to be meditating. "Now that time I was in earnest too!" she
said, with a sort of wonder at herself.

"What do you mean?" asked Margaret.

"Oh, nothing of consequence. Are you sure you're not cold?"

"I'm quite warm; it's like summer."

"Yes, it's warm," said Garda, sitting down beside her. "Oh, I wish I
were in that boat!" And she put her head down