than an
Indian girl in her calico skirt could possibly be. But--Anne was
certainly very fair and sweet.

"Of what were you thinking, Miss Douglas, during the minutes you hung
suspended over that abyss?" he asked, moving so that he could rest his
head on his hand, and thus look at her more steadily.

Anne turned. For she always looked directly at the person who spoke to
her, having none of those side glances, tableaux of sweeping eyelashes,
and willful little motions which belong to most pretty girls. She
turned. And now Dexter was surprised to see how she was blushing, so
deeply and slowly that it must have been physically painful.

"She is beginning to be conscious of my manner at last," he said to
himself, with self-gratulation. Then he added, in a lower voice, "_I_
was thinking only of you; and what a brutal sacrifice it would be if
your life should be given for that other!"

"Valeria is a good girl, I think," said Anne, recovering herself, and
answering as impersonally as though he had neither lowered his voice nor
thrown any intensity into his eyes. "However, none of the ladies here
approach Helen--Mrs. Lorrington; and I am sure _you_ agree with me in
thinking so, Mr. Dexter."

"You are loyal to your friend."

"No one has been so kind to me; I both love her and warmly admire her.
How I hope she may come soon! And when she does, as I can not help
loving to be with her, I suppose I shall see a great deal more of
_you_," said the girl, smiling, and in her own mind addressing the
long-devoted Knight-errant.

"Shall you?" thought Dexter, not a little piqued by her readiness to
yield him even to her friend. "I will see that you do not long continue
quite so indifferent," he added to himself, with determination. Then, in
pursuance of this, he decided to go in and dance with some one else;
that should be a first step.

"I believe I am engaged to Mrs. Bannert for the next dance," he said,
regretfully. "Shall I take you in?"

"No; please let me stay here a while. My arm really aches dully all the
time, and the fresh air is pleasant."

"And if Miss Vanhorn should ask?"

"Tell her where I am."

"I will," answered Dexter. And he fully intended to do it in any case.
He liked, when she was not with him, to have Anne safely under her
grandaunt's watchful vigilance, not exactly with the spirit of the dog
in the manger, but something like it. He was conscious, also, that he
possessed the chaperon's especial favor, an