eyes
make me uncomfortable, following me. He makes me remember things, and
I don't want to. He says it's his duty. He said to-night I'm not going
to get well and that he had to tell me in order to save me from
myself. Make him keep away from me, Malise; I'm afraid of him. I took
it, _that_, to-night, to forget what he said; say it isn't so,
Malise--say it."

Willy leaned back over the seat, talking in steady, everyday fashion.
"There's the moon setting ahead of us; see it, Mrs. Garnier?
Everything's so still, you say? Why, no; it's not so still. There is a
cock crowing somewhere, and that must be a gopher scuttling under the
palmetto. Now, look backward. See that line of light? It's the dawn."

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next evening at Nancy, an hour or two after supper, King William
was tapping at Mrs. Garnier's door, which was ajar.

"She is asleep," warned Alexina from within.

"Then come on out," he begged, "the moon's up."

"Go on," Mrs. Leroy told her, "Willy wants you," which to Charlotte
was reason for all things.

"It's windy," he called softly, "bring a wrap."

The girl came, bringing her reefer jacket and her Tam and put them on
in the hall. The jacket was blue, the Tam was scarlet, and both were
jaunty. He regarded her in them with satisfaction.

"Now, there," said he, with King William approval, "I like that."

They went down and out. She was tired, she said, so they sat on the
bench under the wild orange. The moss, drooping from the branches,
fluttered above them. The wind was fitful, lifting and dying. It was a
grey night, with scattered mists lying low over the lake, while a
shoal of little clouds were slipping across the face of the moon.

"It's been too soft and warm," said he; "it can't last."

But Alexina shivered a little, for there was a chill whenever the wind
rose.

"Walk down to the pier," he begged, "and back. Then you shall go in."

The path led through the grove. Stopping to select an orange for her,
he passed his hand almost caressingly up and down a limb of the tree.

"And you begin to pick the oranges Monday?" said Alexina.

"Monday."

"And this is Thursday."

They walked on. He was peeling away the yellow rind that she might
have a white cup to drink from.

"I won't be here to see the picking," said Alexina. "I have to go to
Kentucky for two weeks, something about business. Uncle Austen wrote
me in the letter you brought out to-day, that it would simplify things