head and looked foolish. "I mean that Brighton is too
gay, and thoughtless, and noisy a place for me--I would rather stay at
Harbury."

"You fickle, changeable, sentimental creature! I wouldn't be a man like
you for the world!" And reckless Christal burst into a fit of laughter
much louder than seemed warranted by the occasion. Lyle seemed much
annoyed; whereupon his friend Miss Rothesay considerately interposed,
and passed to some other subject which lasted until the hour of
departure.. The three walked to the Dell together, Christal jesting
incessantly, either with or at Lyle Derwent. Olive walked beside them
rather silent than otherwise. She had been so used to walk home with
Harold Gwynne, that any other companionship along the old familiar road
seemed unnatural. As she passed along, from every bush, every tree,
every winding of the lane, seemed to start some ghostlike memory; until
there came over her a feeling almost of fear, to find how full her
thoughts were of this one friend, how to pass from his presence was like
passing into gloom, and the sense of his absence seemed a heavy void.

"It was not so while my mother lived," Olive murmured sorrowfully. "I
never needed any friend but her. What am I doing! What is coming over
me?"

She trembled, and dared not answer the question.

At the Dell they parted from Lyle. "I shall see you once again before
you leave, I hope," he said to Christal.

"Oh, yes; you will not get rid of your tormentor so easily."

"Get rid of you, fair Cruelty! Would a man wish to put out the sun
because it scorches him sometimes?" cried Lyle, lifted to the seventh
heaven of poetic fervour by the influence of a balmy night and a
glorious harvest moon. Which said luminary, shining on Christal's face,
saw there,--she only, pale Lady Moon,--an expression fine and rare;
quivering lips, eyes not merely bright, but flaming, as such dark eyes
only can.

As Olive was entering the hall door, Miss Manners, a little in the rear,
fell, crying out as with pain. She was quickly assisted into the house,
where, recovering, she complained of having sprained her ankle. Olive,
full of compassion, laid her on the sofa, and hurried away for some
simple medicaments, leaving Christal alone.

That young lady, as soon as she heard Miss Rothesay's steps overhead,
bounded to the half-open window, moving quite as easily on the injured
foot as on the other. Eagerly she listened; and soon was rewarded by
hearing