stay. In
fact, for a time Hilda seemed to have departed out of the sphere of
her thoughts, into some distant realm where those thoughts never
wandered. She was content to remain here--to postpone her departure,
and wait for any thing at all. Sometimes she thought of the end of
all this. For Windham must one day depart. This had to end. It could
not last. And what then? Then? Ah then! She would not think of it.
Calamities had fallen to her lot before, and it now appeared to her
that another calamity was to come--dark, indeed, and dreadful; worse,
she feared, than others which she had braved in her young life.

For one thing she felt grateful. Windham never ventured beyond the
limits of friendship. To this he had a right. Had he not saved her
from death? But he never seemed to think of transgressing the
strictest limits of conventional politeness. He never indulged at
even the faintest attempt at a compliment. Had he even done this much
it would have been a painful embarrassment. She would have been
forced to shrink back into herself and her dreary life, and put an
end to such interviews forever. But the trial did not come, and she
had no cause to shrink back. So it was that the bright golden hours
sped onward, bearing on the happy, happy days; and Windham lingered
on, letting his English business go.

Another steamer had arrived from Naples, and yet another, but no word
came from Hilda. Zillah had written to her address, explaining every
thing, but no answer came. The chief of police had received an answer
to his original message, stating that the authorities at Naples would
do all in their power to fulfill his wishes; but since then nothing
further had been communicated. His efforts to search after Gualtier
and Mathilde, in France, were quite unsuccessful. He urged Obed Chute
and Miss Lorton to wait still longer, until something definite might
be found. Windham waited also. Whatever his English business was, he
deferred it. He was anxious, he said, to see how these efforts would
turn out, and he hoped to be of use himself.

Meanwhile Obed Chute had fitted up the yacht, and had obliterated
every mark of the casualty with which she had met. In this the party
sometimes sailed. Zillah might perhaps have objected to put her foot
on board a vessel which was associated with the greatest calamity of
her life; but the presence of Windham seemed to bring a
counter-association which dispelled her mournful memories. She might