nd how long, long ago it was! Then storm was sweeping sea
and land; the hurrying blast, the beating waves, the driven foam
flakes, had been an actuality. Now all unrest was in her own thought,
while o'er sea and land brooded a peace that suggested eternity. The
sweetness of that which alone would last,--how it appealed to her!

She could see beneath her lashes the moonlight falling on John's strong
profile, and on the brown hands that clasped his knee. If, without word
or look, he could reach up to her one of those hands, and she could put
her own into it with the knowledge that there was its rightful place,
what would every storm of circumstance mean to her henceforth!

She came to herself with a start. Here on Edna's very piazza, enjoying
her hospitality, she was indulging in a dream of theft from her. If her
thoughts could be so betrayed, might it not be that some action had
indeed given Edna just cause of offense? She remembered the day when,
in the boat with her newly discovered uncle, he had told her that
Dunham was straining at the leash to get away to Boston to Miss
Derwent. Every moment of the latter's charming hospitality, and now her
glorious voice, doubtless bound him closer to her. Sylvia knew herself
to be not of their world, and perhaps she was more of a novelty to
Dunham than she could realize. It was some strangeness in her, possibly
some unconscious _gaucherie_, that so often called his attention to
herself. Surely she should blush forever that, so soon as her thoughts
escaped control, the subject began to attempt to betray her Princess
and usurp her place.

"I mustn't stay here. I ought not to stay," thought Sylvia in sudden
panic. "I cannot be trusted."

The song closed. Dunham turned his head and looked up at his companion.

"Your song, is it?" he asked softly. "Let me in, too. It belongs to
this place."

"Go and tell Edna how you like it," said Sylvia. "She always says it
belongs to this island."

"And to her present guests especially," rejoined Dunham. "Won't you
seal the partnership before I go?"

He reached his hand up to her with the movement she had pictured.

Her own were clasped behind her head. "No," she answered quickly. "Take
Edna's hand upon it. Let her know how you love it, for it is one of her
own favorites."

Dunham still hesitated, regarding the moonlit face, and Sylvia suddenly
rose and, passing him, ran down the steps and joined Judge Trent in his
measured promenade.