forth unexpected resources in her which made her well-poised in bearing and manner.  “She is great in reserve forces,” he said to himself, swearing under his breath that she was growing more fascinating every time that he saw her, and for this he made opportunities as well as found them.  Stephen Archdale with his alternations of gloom and gayety and the ubiquitousness necessary to a host, had begun to find this direction of Edmonson’s eyes a matter that roused some slight speculation.  His glances followed the arrowy glances of his guest to see what marks they made.  But he saw nothing, except that Miss Royal avoided Edmonson as much as she could in courtesy, and that she seldom met his eyes fully.  From these things both young men drew their conclusions, which were somewhat alike, and should both have been subject to correction.  More than once they measured one another covertly, and from the heart of him who feared that he had lost her there stretched out toward the other a terrible shadow which in the wavering of his changing thoughts grew, and lessened, and grew again, and sometimes reached forward and clutched with its hideous hands, and then drew back, and crouched, and waited.

It was a perfect summer night when Elizabeth leaned out of her window into the stillness.  The roar of the surf was as distinct as if it came from the pebbled beach below; yet, modulated by distance, it formed the base, sustained and rythmic, into which there fell harmoniously that legato treble of murmur which makes us seem to hear the stillness, and that staccato note of some accidental sound softened to accord with the mood of the night.  She needed the peace that she felt in the air, for her cheeks were wet with passionate tears and her lips still trembled.  She could give utterance to her trouble now, she was free for hours from every ear, from every eye, hidden away from all but the sight and hearing of the God she sought in the dark and the silence.

Brought up in the creed of the Puritans, believing it entirely, as she supposed, there was yet in her heart when she sent it Heavenward a joy which sprang from a more loving faith.  Perhaps it was because of her own beautiful human associations with the name that at the words “Our Father,” her heart swelled with confidence that God listened to her voice, and that his loving kindness wrapped her about.  If her prayers were not always granted as she wished, she perceived that the hands she stretched out in pleading were never drawn back empty, for when they did not hold her requests, they were filled with what was to be given her tonight,—­courage to meet the trials that she dreaded.  The next day’s trial was to be the worst of all, for it was then that they were to dine at the Colonel’s, and Katie was to be there,—­Katie, whom she loved dearly, whom she had robbed so unintentionally, and who would not forgive her.  It would be hard for Archdale; but Elizabeth dismissed him from her thoughts,