eet any one?"

"One never knows what may or may not happen. I came here to practise
my music lesson, _sans_ auditors, and I meet Dr. Grey,--the last
person I expected or desired to see."

He came a step nearer, and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Salome, you distress and perplex me. My child, are you better or
worse than I think you?"

She lifted her slender hand and laid it lightly on his, which still
rested upon her shoulder.

"I am both,--better and worse. Better in aim than you believe; worse
in execution than you could realize, even if I confessed all, which I
have not the slightest intention of doing. Ah, Dr. Grey, if you read
me thoroughly, you would not be surprised, or consider it presumptuous
that I sometimes think I am that anomalous creature, whom Balzac
defined as 'Angel through love, demon through fantasy, child through
faith, sage through experience, man through the brain, woman through
the heart, giant through hope, and poet through dreams.'"

As Dr. Grey looked down into the splendid eyes, softened and magnified
by a crystal veil of unshed tears, he sighed, and answered,--

"You are, indeed, a bundle of contradictions. Why have you so
sedulously concealed the existence of your fine voice, which the
majority of girls would have been eager to exhibit?"

"It was not lack of vanity, but excess, that prompted me to keep you
in ignorance, until I could astonish you by its perfection. You have
anticipated me only by a few days, and I intended singing for you next
week."

"It is not prudent for you to venture so far from home, especially at
this hour."

"We paupers are not so fastidious as our lucky superiors, and cannot
afford timid airs, and affectation of extreme nervousness. Having no
escort, and expecting none, I walk alone in any direction I choose,
with what fearlessness and contentment I find myself able to
command."

"It will be dark before you can reach the public road."

"No, sir; there is a young moon swinging above the tree-tops, to light
me on my lonesome ramble; and I come here so often that even the
rabbits and whippoorwills know me. Where is Miss Muriel?"

"Waiting in the buggy, on the beach. I must go back to her."

"Yes. Pray do not delay an instant, or she will imagine that some dire
calamity has befallen her knight, who, in hunting a siren, encountered
Scylla or Charybdis. Good evening, Dr. Grey."

"I am unwilling to leave you here so unprotected. Come and ride with
Muri