I, too, am capricious and full of changing moods. If it is
tender and caressing, I respond to its appeal; if it is boisterous and
wild, I grow reckless and rash in sympathy; and when it is fierce and
passionate, I feel my blood rush within me. I am certainly a child of
the wind!"

"Let us hope you will never experience a cyclone," said the Count,
drily. "It might be disastrous!"

"True, it might," said Opal, and she did not smile. "I echo your kind
hope, Count de Roannes."

And the Boy looked, and listened, and loved!

CHAPTER X

As they left the dinner-table, Opal passed the Boy on her way to her
stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face
appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her.

"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!"

"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded.

She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally.

"Come out for just a few moments under the stars, and say good-night."

"The idea! I can say good-night here and now!" She hesitated.

"Please, Opal! I seldom see you alone--really alone--and this is our
last night, you know. To-morrow we shall part--perhaps forever--who
knows? Can you be so cruel as to refuse this one request. Please come!"

His eyes were wooing, her heart fluttering in response.

"Well--perhaps!" she said.

"Perhaps?" he echoed, with a smile, then added, teasingly, "Are you
afraid?"

"Afraid?--I dare anything--to-night!"

"Then come!"

"I will--if I feel like this when the time comes. But," and she gave him
a tantalizing glance from under her long lashes, "don't expect me!"

Paul tried to look disappointed, but he felt sure that she would come.

And she did! But not till he had given up all hope, and was pacing the
deck in an agony of impatience. He had felt so certain that he knew his
beloved! She came, swiftly, silently, almost before he was aware.

"Well, ... I'm here," she said.

"I see you are, Opal and--thank you."

He extended his hand, but she clasped hers behind her back and looked
at him defiantly. Truly she was in a most perverse mood!

"Aren't we haughty!" he laughed.

"No, I'm not; I am--angry!"

"With me?"

"No!--not you."

"Whom, then?"

"With--myself!" And she stamped her tiny foot imperiously.

Paul was delighted. "Poor child," he said. "What have you done that you
are so sorry?"

"I'm not sorry! That's why I'm angry! If I were only a bit sorry, I'd
have some