ill," she answered simply, "if I ask him. He loves me."

Winn was silent, conscious that beside him was a creature as tender as a
flower and as innocent, with a will to do and dare, or strive to do,
what few women would, and in her heart was an ambition that, like the
bee in the flower, would rob her of all life's sweetness.

"I am sorry," he said at last, "that you have this ambition. It is
creditable to you, but hopeless. Put it out of your mind before it
destroys your peace. Be your own sweet self here on the island, and some
day you will learn to love one of its hardy sons, like David Moore,
perhaps, and he will make you a home and strive for your happiness."

"I do not care for him, or any of the others," she answered, "and never
shall."

It was not the first time he had mentioned young Moore to her, but never
before in so serious a way, and it hurt.

"I am sorry," she continued, "that I told you what I have, but somehow I
thought you understood me better than any one else. It is all right,
however, and no doubt what you say is true."

He noticed there was a little quiver in her voice, and realized he had
hurt her. He had, but not in the way he thought.

For a long time they sat in silence, watching the whitened ledges that
bordered the island, the spectral spruces that grew to the right of
where they were, the twinkling gleam of the lighthouse in the distance,
and the shimmering path of moonlight across the harbor that ended at
their feet.

"It's a beautiful night," said Winn at last, "and I hate to leave this
spot, but I think it's time you were home."

And as he spoke he stooped, and, putting his hand under her arm, lifted
her to her feet.

As he did so, a single tear fell upon his hand.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN A FOG

Men are very much alike in this respect: if one finds fortune or a path
that seems to lead that way, all who suspect it will try to crowd in.
The same instinct may be seen among a flock of fowl, only we do not
pursue so openly. And so, when news of the unexpected and early dividend
on Rockhaven stock circulated--as it was quick in doing--everybody on
the island who had a few dollars laid away made haste to seek Winn,
anxious to invest. The leaven worked as that shrewd swindler, Weston,
knew full well it would, and had Winn's suspicions not been aroused, and
he too honest to take advantage of these people, he might have sold five
thousand shares, and as the sequel proved, bankrupt