here was an awkward pause.

Lucy, whose glance had dropped to the floor, raised her eyes appealingly
to the man's face; but she found in it no answering sympathy. In the short
interval it had changed from geniality to a sternness almost incredible of
belief. It was hard now--merciless.

Perhaps, to do Martin justice, he could not have spoken at that moment had
he tried. This creature, with her wealth of golden hair, her radiant
eyes, flashed upon his vision with the glory of a new star. She was a
phenomenon hitherto unknown. No matter what her name, the simple fact of
her presence would have put to flight every other thought and left him
dumb. The proudly poised head, the rounded white throat, the flushed cheek
with its elusive dimples, the tiny hands were all marvels unfamiliar to
Martin Howe.

Could this nymph, this dryad be a product of the same planet that had
given birth to Mary, Eliza, and Jane?

With no attempt to conceal his artless scrutiny, he looked, and before his
ingenuous wonder Lucy felt her pulse bound.

"I must go home," she said, struggling to appear composed and ignoring the
speechless Martin as if he were in reality as many miles away as she had
supposed him. "I had no idea it was so late. Good night and thank you for
my pleasant evening."

None of the Howes attempted to stay her departure, although Jane followed
her with feigned imperturbability to the door, remarking by way of
conversation:

"It's dretful dark outside, ain't it?"

Lucy smiled.

"Yes, but I don't mind."

To have escaped Martin Howe's eyes, which continued to rest upon her, she
would have plunged into a den of lions. The beating of her heart, the
burning of her cheek angered and disconcerted her.

Jane unfastened the door. Then she started back in consternation.

"Mercy!" she cried. "It's rainin'!"

"Rainin'?" Eliza exclaimed.

"Yes, pourin'. It's an awful shower."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," asserted Lucy, impatient to be gone. "I never
mind the rain."

"But this is a regular downpour. You'll get wet to your skin," Jane
objected. "I ain't a-goin' to let you go out in it in that thin dress.
Ain't we got an umbrella somewheres, 'Liza?"

"I dunno," Eliza answered vaguely.

The sudden shower and the furious tossing of the trees did not impress
themselves on her dull mind. Only one thought possessed her brain,--the
sinking dread of the moment when Lucy should be gone and Martin would
empty the vials of his waiting w