, rafts were stationed at intervals,
blazing with colored lights. The sound of distant music floated far down
upon the air, mingled with the swish of steady oars and laughter and
happy voices as the occupants of the various boats called out merrily to
each other across the water, or here and there broke into light-hearted
song. Denham's boat glided stilly along through all this carnival-like
revelry. Gerald was not in a mood for talking, and he felt little
inclined to disturb her. It was companionship enough merely to glance at
her ever and anon as she sat silently in the stern, the red ropes of the
tiller drawn loosely around her slender waist like a silken girdle. He
wondered idly what she was thinking of. Her broad hat threw too deep a
shadow for him to see her face save when they neared one of the beacon
rafts; then it was suddenly in brilliant illumination, and it was
impossible not to watch for these moments of revelation, which lit her up
to such rare beauty. He fancied he could almost see her thoughts as there
flashed across her face some new, swift expression more speaking than
words,--now a noble thought, he was sure; now an odd fancy, now a serious
meditative mood, that held her every sense and faculty in thrall at once.
Through all her revery she never forgot her duty with the rudder, though
she quite forgot her oarsman. She made no effort whatever toward his
entertainment, and he felt sure that he could do no more toward hers than
simply not to obtrude himself upon her. Were there many, he wondered,
even among her chosen friends (in whose ranks he could not count
himself), who would have enjoyed this silent sail with her so much as he?
They neared the destined spot all too soon for him, and Gerald at last
roused herself.

"Are we there now? I had no idea it was so far."

"It is not far enough," answered Denham, resting a moment on his
oars as he looked around. "Nothing surely can be devised, even in
this pleasure-ingenious society, so enjoyable as I have found our
evening sail."

"Why do you go to the party at all then?" asked Gerald, abruptly. "It
isn't compulsory, is it? After you land me, are you not at liberty to row
off if you prefer?"

"Ah, but I don't prefer," Halloway said gayly, resuming his oars. "I
expect to be very greatly entertained there too. There is almost
always something to be got out of every thing, and anyway I
particularly like parties."

"I hate them."

"Yes, because you do no