“And I carried you on and on!” she cried reproachfully.  “I was so anxious to find this particular crab.  Isn’t he a pretty fellow?” and she lifted the box that her father might watch the tiny creature’s play.  “I shall go at once and make you an orange sherbet.”

“Let Dinah do it and you stay here with me.”

“No indeed!  You know you think no one can make them as well as I do.  I promise you this one shall be superfine.”

“As you will, little one,—­only don’t stay away too long.”

He lay very still after she had left him, looking dreamily through the vines at the silver spray of the fountain.  The air had grown oppressively sultry; no breath of wind stirred the heavily drooping leaves, no sound except the rhythmic splash of the fountain and the soft lapping of the waves upon the beach.  He closed his eyes while their ceaseless monotone seemed to beat upon his brain.

“Forever!  Forever!  Forever!”

A spasm of pain crossed his face as Evadne’s voice woke the echoes with a merry song.  “Poor little lass!” he murmured.  Then he smiled as she came towards him, quaffed off the beverage she had prepared with loving skill, and called her the best cook in all the Indies.

“Has it refreshed you, dearest?” she asked anxiously.

“Immensely!  Now you shall read me some of Lalla Rookh, and after dinner I will set about making a Mecca for your crab.”

Evadne stroked the dainty claws,—­

“Poor little chap!  So you are a pilgrim like the rest of us.  I wish we did not have to go on and on, dearest!” she exclaimed passionately, “why cannot we stand still and enjoy?”

“It would grow monotonous, little Vad.  Progress is the law of all being, and seventy years of life is generally enough for the majority.  You would not like to live to be an old lady of two hundred and fifty?  Think how tired you would be!”

She laid her cheek against his upon the pillow.  “I should never grow tired,—­with you!”

The evening drew on, hot and breathless.  Low growls of distant thunder were heard at intervals, and in the eastern sky the lightning played.

Evadne watched it, sitting on the top step of the veranda, her white muslin dress in happy contrast with the deep green of the vines which clustered thickly about the pillar against which she leaned.  On the step below her a young man sat.  He too was clad in white and the rich crimson of the silken scarf which he wore about his waist enhanced his Spanish beauty.  A zither lay across his knees over which his hands wandered skilfully as he made the air tremble with dreamy music.  Mr. Hildreth paced slowly up and down the veranda behind them.

“What is the news from the great world, Geoff?  I saw a troop ship signaled this morning.  Have you been on board yet?”

“No, sir, I have been looking over the plantation with my father all day, and only got home in time for dinner.”