el, and I will walk beside the buggy. My horse is so gentle that a
child can guide him."

"Thank you. Not for a ten-acre lot in Mohammed's Paradise would I mar
Miss Muriel's happiness, or punish myself by a _tete-a-tete_ with her.
It would be positively 'discourteous' in me to accept your proposal;
and, moreover, I abhor division,--_tout ou rien_."

"Wilful, silly child! It is not proper for you to wander along that
dreary road in the dark. Come with me."

"Not I. Make yourself easy by recollecting that 'naught is never in
danger.' See yonder in the west,--

'Where, lo! above the sandy sunset rose
The silver sickle of the green-gowned witch.'"

She laughed lightly, derisively, and collected the sheets of music
scattered on the bank.

Silently Dr. Grey returned to his ward, who exclaimed, at sight of
him,--

"I am glad to see you again, for you stayed so long I was growing
frightened. Did you find the singer?"

"Yes."

"What is the matter? You look troubled and solemn."

"I am merely annoyed by circumstances beyond my control."

"Dr. Grey, who was that sweet singer?"

"Salome Owen."

"How can such a thing be possible, when I have never heard a note from
her lips? You told me she had no musical talent."

"I was not aware that she sang at all, until this afternoon, and your
surprise does not equal mine."

"Where did you find her?"

"Sitting on a mound of sand, singing to the sea."

"Who is with her?"

"No one. I requested her to come with us, and offered to walk beside
my buggy; but she declined. Please be so considerate as to say nothing
about this occurrence, when you reach home; because animadversion only
hardens that poor girl in her whimsical ways. Now we will dismiss the
matter."

Muriel endeavored to render herself an agreeable companion during the
remainder of the drive; but her guardian, despite his efforts to
become interested in her conversation, was evidently _distrait_, and
both felt relieved when they reached Grassmere, where Miss Jane and
the governess welcomed their return.

Dr. Grey dismissed his buggy and entered the hall; but passed through
the house, and, crossing the orchard, followed the road leading
seaward.

Only a few summer stars were sprinkling their silvery rays over the
gray gloom of twilight, and the shining crescent in the violet west
had slipped down behind the silent hills that girded the rough,
winding road.

When Salome put her fingers on the gloved han