g about?"

"I don't think I could possibly tell you."

I was just opening the door for her. She paused on the threshold,
lifting her brows a little and smiling as she whispered, "Something
uncomplimentary?"

"That depends what you want to be complimented on," I answered.

"Oh, as long as it's on anything!" she cried. "You'll admit my
compliments to-night have been terribly left-handed?"

"I don't know that mine hasn't a touch of that. Well--I think it's very
brave to play games in the crater of an active volcano--exceedingly
brave it is!"

"Brave? But not very----?"

"Let's leave it where it is. What about Cartmell's letter?"

"That'll do to-morrow." (Of course it would--it had been only an
instrument of dismissal.) "I'm tired to-night." Her face grew grave: she
experienced another mood--or touched another note. "My friend, you must
believe that I always listen to what you say. I mayn't see things just
as you seem to, sometimes, but what you say always makes me think. By
the bye, are you very busy, or could you ride to-morrow?"

"Of course!" I cried eagerly. "Seven-thirty, as usual?"

"A quarter to eight sharp. Good night." She gave me a contented friendly
smile, with just a hint of triumph about it, and went upstairs.

It shows what a good thing life is that I, too, in spite of my
questionings and apprehension, repaired home forgetful of them for the
time and full of exultation. I loved riding; and Jenny on horseback was
a companion for a god.

On reflection it might have occurred to me that it was easier for her to
invite me to ride than to listen too exactly to my counsels--quite as
easy and really as well calculated to keep me content. Happily the youth
in me found in her more than the subject of fears or the source of
questionings. She could also delight.

CHAPTER VI

TAKING TO OPEN SEA

On her morning rides Jenny wore a habit of russet brown and a
broad-brimmed hat to match; her beautiful mare was a golden chestnut;
the motive and the crown of all the scheme showed in her brilliant hazel
eyes. On this fine morning--there was a touch of autumn frost, slowly
yielding before the growing strength of the sun, but the ground was
springy under us--Jenny bore a holiday air; no cares and no schemes
beset her. To my poor ability I shared and seconded her mood, though my
black coat and drab breeches were a sad failure in the matter of outward
expression. She made straight for the north gate of the