d he did not intend to
forfeit it; he wished to use it for his own purposes.

But Rachel marred his intention by crossing it with one of her own.

Dexter admired Mrs. Bannert. He could not help it. When she took his
arm, he was for the time being hers. She knew this, and being piqued by
some neglect of Heathcote's, she met the other man at the door, and made
him think, without saying it, that she wished to be with him awhile on
the moon-lit piazza; for Heathcote was there. Dexter obeyed. And thus it
happened that Miss Vanhorn was not told at all; but supposing that her
niece was still with the escort she had herself selected, the
fine-looking owner of mines and mills, the future Senator, the "type of
American success," she rested mistakenly content, and spent the time
agreeably in making old Mrs. Bannert's life a temporary fever by
relating to her in detail some old buried scandals respecting the
departed Bannert, pretending to have forgotten entirely the chief
actor's name.

In the mean while Heathcote, sauntering along the piazza in his turn,
came upon Anne sitting alone by the window, and dropped into the vacant
place beside her. He said a few words, playing with the fringe of
Rachel's sash, which he still wore, "her colors," some one remarked, but
made no allusion to the occurrences of the previous day. What he said
was unimportant, but he looked at her rather steadily, and she was
conscious of his glance. In truth, he was merely noting the effect of
her head and throat against the lighted window, as Dexter had done, the
outline being very distinct and lovely, a profile framed in light; but
she thought it was something different. A painful timidity again seized
her; instead of blushing, she turned pale, and with difficulty answered
clearly. "_He_ does not praise me," she thought. "_He_ does not say that
what I did yesterday was greater than anything among Indians and mines
and on sinking steamers. _He_ is laughing at me. Grandaunt was right,
and no doubt he thinks me a bold, forward girl who tried to make a
sensation."

[Illustration: "HE WAS MERELY NOTING THE EFFECT."]

Heathcote made another unimportant remark, but Anne, being now nervously
sensitive, took it as having a second meaning. She turned her head away
to hide the burning tears that were rising; but although unshed,
Heathcote saw them. His observation was instantaneous where women were
concerned; not so much active as intuitive. He had no idea what w