d been given on a yacht in the bay, and had begun in
mistake and ended in disaster: the wrong people had come, while the
right ones had been kept away, like the invited guests in the Gospel.
The sun had been too warm, the breeze too cool, the men who talked to
her garrulous and stupid, and the women abominably over-dressed.

"Dear Helen," cried Georgy with effusion, "I have wished myself at home
with you all day.--Dear Mrs. Randolph, tell me what you have been doing
with yourselves;" and she wasted a slight caress on my mother.

"Our doings were nothing remarkable in themselves," said my mother
gently, with a little smile--one of those smiles which women keep for
use among themselves, and rarely give to men.

"Papa and Mrs. Randolph and I sat under a tree until dinner-time," said
Helen. "We have been very idle, but had a delightful time nevertheless."

"Praying all the time that Miss Lenox was enjoying herself at the
dejeuner," drawled Mr. Floyd.

Georgy had risen and was crossing the room, and now, passing Mr. Floyd,
paused and looked down into his face as he surveyed her with a slightly
satirical air.

"I am glad of anybody's prayers," she returned, quite unruffled, "but I
am afraid, Mr. Floyd, yours are merely a pretty figure of speech."

Mr. Floyd suddenly sprang to his feet and walked up and down the room
with a restless way he had. "I have it! I have it!" he exclaimed with a
triumphant air. "It is a picture of a Wili of whom you remind me, Miss
Lenox. I saw it in R----'s studio at Rome.--Don't you remember it,
Floyd?"

I knew it very well, and was aware, besides, that R---- had got the face
from Dart's sketch-book.

"What is a Wili?" inquired Georgy, looking at me. "You know I used to go
to you for all my bits of knowledge when I was a little girl, Mr.
Randolph."

I rose and crossed the room to her side. "A Wili," said I, "is a
betrothed maiden who dies before her wedding-day. Your knowledge of your
sex may tell you why it is that she is never at peace in her grave, but
is impelled by some unconquerable love of life to rise every night and
dance till morning."

"With whom does she dance? Her unfortunate lover?"

"Oh, where Wilis live you see them dancing together in the woods and
fields by moonlight and starlight, their white arms wreathed about each
other and their long hair floating. When a Wili meets a youth abroad in
the night-time she beseeches him to dance with her; and the voice of the
Wili i