she seemed so
fair, delicate, and pure in that witching light that he longed to
rescue her at once from her surroundings. Why should he not? She had
never manifested a more gentle and yielding mood. He directed her
steps from the piazza to a somewhat distant summer-house, and her
reluctance was a shy half revolt, which only emphasized the natural
meaning of her unspoken consent.

Mrs. Muir was still keeping her eyes open, and from her window saw
them pass under the shadow of the trees.

At last they were sitting alone in the summer night. Graydon felt that
words were scarcely needed--that his manner had spoken unequivocally,
and that hers had granted all; but he took her hand and looked
earnestly into her downcast face. "Oh, Stella--" he began.

A twig snapped in the adjacent grove. She sprang up. "Hush, Graydon,"
she whispered; "not yet. Please trust me. Oh, what am I thinking of to
be out so late!--but could not resist. Come;" and she started for the
house.

As they passed in at the door he said, in a low, deep tone, "You
cannot put me off much longer, Stella."

"No, Graydon," she whispered, hurriedly, and hastened to her room.

In his deep feeling he had not heard the suspicious sound in the
grove, and Miss Wildmere's manner was only another expression of the
strong constraint which he believed to be imposed upon her by her
father's financial peril. He felt bitterly disappointed, however.
Although irritated, he was yet rendered more than forgiving by the
apparent truth that she had almost yielded to the impulses of her
heart, in spite of grave considerations--and promises perhaps--to the
contrary.

He was at a loss what to do, yet felt that the present condition of
affairs was becoming intolerable. Almost immediately upon his return
from Europe he had written to Mr. Wildmere for permission to pay his
addresses, and had received a brief and courteous reply. The thought
of again appealing to the father occurred to him, but was speedily
dismissed with unconquerable repugnance. The very fact that this man
compelled his daughter to take such a course made Graydon wish never
to speak to him again. "No," he muttered; "the girl must yield to me,
and cut loose from all her father's shifty ways and associations."

The night was so beautiful, and his thoughts kept him so wakeful, that
he sat in a shadow and watched the moonlight transfiguring the world
into beauty. Before long he heard a step, and a man came from tha