Jaquelina saw that the young student looked surprised.

"You have danced with Walter Earle twice already," he said. "Do you not know that it is not considered en regle to dance more than twice with the same partner?"

She looked at him, puzzled, for an instant. Then the long lashes drooped, and the ready color flashed into her cheek as she answered.

"I do not think I understand what en regle means, Mr. Valchester."

"I beg your pardon for using a French phrase," said Ronald Valchester, uncertain whether she was in earnest or meant to rebuke him. "I am aware that the habit is considered an affectation, but one falls into these things so naturally at college, you know, Miss Meredith."

But he did not attempt to explain it to her. It had vaguely occurred to him that she was teasing him, and he relapsed at once into his grave dignity.

But the next instant he saw that he had been mistaken. She raised her clear, dark eyes to his face, and said, gratefully:

"You do not laugh at my ignorance, Mr. Valchester—then I may dare to ask you a favor."

As she spoke she drew a ring from her finger, and held it out to him.

"Will you translate for me the French words in this ring?" she said.

Many times afterward she wondered what had given her such courage to ask Ronald Valchester this question; she had always been too timid to ask anyone before.

The student took the ring and held it up to the light of the lamp that swung in the tree above their heads.

The diamond flashed and sparkled in the antique dead-gold setting. He read out aloud:

"'Sans peur et sans reproche.' It is a French motto, Miss Meredith. It simply means, 'without fear and without reproach.'"

"Oh! what beautiful words," she cried. "Thank you, Mr. Valchester, very much. All my life I have wanted to know what those words in mamma's ring meant."

"Anyone, almost, could have told you," he replied, as he handed it back to her. "Did you never ask anyone?"

"No, I was ashamed to confess such pitiable ignorance," she answered, frankly. "You see, Mr. Valchester, my mother was French, and it seemed so odd that I should be ignorant of her mother-tongue."

"No one could laugh at you for that," said Ronald Valchester, kindly.

He was leaning against the tree carelessly, and Jaquelina sat on the rustic bench beneath it, the soft, white folds of her dress falling on the velvety green turf. A little beyond them was the square-cut cedar hedge that bounded the trim lawn.

Jaquelina did not know what dark, gleaming eyes watched her beauty, as she sat there with the light falling down on her girlish face and form.

She was looking at her companion, and recalling the words in which Walter Earle had praised him.

"He is handsome, too," she said to herself. "What a beautiful, high, white brow, and clear-cut face. Mr. Earle must be very proud to have him for his friend."

"Mr. Valchester, are you a poet?" she asked, suddenly.

"No one ever accused me of being one," he answered, laughing. "Why do you ask me, Miss Meredith?"

"You look like one," she said.

Ronald Valchester laughed again.

"Did you ever see a poet, Miss Meredith?" he asked.

Then Jaquelina started and blushed.

"No, in truth, I never did," she said. "It was only my fancy. Perhaps I should have expressed my thought better if I had said that you realize my ideal of how a poet should look."

"You flatter me," he said, smiling, yet in his heart Ronald Valchester was pleased at her words, for he saw that she meant them and had no thought of flattering him.

Quite naturally he said to her after a moment of silent thought.

"Are you fond of poetry, Miss Meredith?"

"I love it better than anything in the world!" she replied, with enthusiasm.

"Tell me the name of your favorite poet," he said.

He saw the quick, sensitive flush of shame leap into the soft cheek at the natural question.

"I cannot tell you," she said. "I have had no fair opportunity of making up my mind. I have read bits from them all, but never a whole volume. We have not many books at home."

It seemed only kindness that he should say then:

"Will you permit me to lend you some of my books, Miss Meredith? I have all the poets. I will send you down a box from college."

"Thank you," she said, flushing with pleasure. "I will be very careful with them, Mr. Valchester."

Either Walter Earle had forgotten her, or something had detained him.

Another set was forming, but he did not come to claim her hand.

The dance was made up and she sat still and waited, while the wild, entrancing strains of music filled the night with melody.

Ronald Valchester did not seek another partner. He sat down by Jaquelina's side, and talked to her of books and poetry.

Now and then he repeated pretty bits from his favorite authors, to which she listened eagerly.

It was very pleasant. The night was so bright and warm, the scene was so gay and brilliant, the heavy, odorous perfume of honeysuckles and roses freighted the air.

The moon shone bright and clear, the stars seemed to twinkle with joy. In her mind Jaquelina silently contrasted it with last night.

Could it be possible that only last night she was kneeling, wet and cold and wretched in the outlaw's cavern retreat, pleading for liberty—she who sat here free and happy, and listened to the musical voice of Ronald Valchester murmuring lovely lines and gentle thoughts from the poets she loved?

She shivered as if with cold as the striking contrast presented itself to her mind.

"It is a delightful party," she said to herself. "I would not have missed it for anything. I have enjoyed every minute of it."

Just then Walter Earle came hurrying up to them.

"Miss Meredith, I beg ten thousand pardons," he cried. "Our dance is almost over, but I did not know it was on until this moment. You see I had gone into the house and was talking to my father and some of the older people, and I did not hear the music. Will you excuse me, and give me another dance?"

"You are perfectly excusable, sir," she said, "but——" she stopped and looked at Ronald Valchester.

"I have just been telling her," said Valchester, "that it is neither customary nor fair to give so many dances to one person."

Walter Earle flushed slightly.

"As I am her teacher," he said, "that objection should not apply to me. I have been showing her how to do the steps and figures. No one else volunteered to teach her. You did not, Valchester."

It was Valchester's turn to blush now.

"It was very careless and selfish in me that I did not," he replied. "But I am sufficiently punished for it, as I have not been able to secure her for my partner a single time."

"Well, suppose we adjourn to the house now," said Walter. "Refreshments are served in the dining-room."

"And mamma has sent me to hurry you in," said Violet, appearing on the scene, with a merry party of young people in her wake.

They went into the house, and Jaquelina found herself placed between Walter Earle and Ronald Valchester at table. Violet was on the other side of Valchester.

They formed a merry party. The long table sparkled with silver and cut-glass and flowers, and the dishes were loaded with rare and dainty edibles and delicious fruits.

But Jaquelina was too happy and excited to eat. She drank in pleasure from the sights and sounds about her—the bright, happy faces, the joyous voices.

The hour that was spent at the table passed like a dream of pleasure, but afterward she remembered that she had only trifled with her knife and fork; she had been too excited to eat.

When they left the table the young people all went into the parlor.

Violet had a new piano—a fine instrument that she laughingly said it was a perfect delight to touch.

Several of the young ladies sang and played. Jaquelina sat quietly at the window and listened.

Music was a passion with her. It seemed to stir a thousand slumbering harmonies into life within her heart.

"Do you play?" said Valchester a voice beside her, presently.

"No, I have never been taught," she answered, and he caught the faint tone of regret in the low voice.

"But you love music?" he said.

"Dearly," she answered, with unconscious pathos.

"You have not had a fashionable boarding-school education, Miss Meredith, I suppose," he said, and was sorry for the words a moment after as he saw the sensitive, ever-ready color tinge her cheek.

"Why do you say so?" she asked, toying nervously with the heavy fringe of the curtain. "Do I betray my ignorance so plainly?"

"Excuse me; not in the least," he replied. "I guessed so because you do not play."

"I am an orphan, Mr. Valchester," she said, raising her dark eyes to his face a moment. She seemed to think that all was said in that.

"A song, Mr. Valchester," said Violet Earle, looking round from the piano toward the window. "It is your turn now."

"Valchester! Valchester!" cried a score of voices.

Jaquelina thought he looked annoyed.

"I am not in voice——" he began.

"No excuses," laughed Walter Earle, who was turning over some sheets of music. "Send him away from the window, Miss Meredith."

Valchester looked at her.

"Shall you do so?" he asked.

"I should like to hear you sing," she replied, simply.

"Very well, I will sing for you," he answered, as he crossed the room and sat down on the stool which Violet vacated as he came up.

The long, white hands swept over the pearl keys lightly. A rush of divine melody filled the room.

Jaquelina shivered, it was so weirdly, thrillingly sweet. He sang song after song in a full, rich tenor voice, seeming to lose himself in the strains.

Almost without knowing it, Jaquelina arose and went over to the piano, standing by Violet, who was turning the leaves of the music.

He glanced up at her with a slight smile, and she saw that his blue-gray eyes were sparkling with pleasure or excitement—they were glittering starry black.

"He has the sweetest tenor voice in the country," Violet whispered to her. "Is it not a perfect treat to hear him sing?"

Jaquelina thought so, but she only whispered "Yes," very faintly. She did not wish to lose a note of the perfect strains.

At last he rose abruptly.

"I have made you all twice thankful," he laughed. "That is my worst fault. When I am induced to play I never know when to stop."

No one could be induced to touch the piano after Ronald Valchester had played—his music was too superior to anyone else's. They all went out on the lawn again. Some danced—some wandered under the trees. Among these latter was Jaquelina.

She was walking with Walter Earle again, and Violet with Ronald Valchester.

It was growing far into the night. Some of the lights had burned low; the moon was about to go down. The trees grew thick where they were walking, and some sudden impulse made Jaquelina shiver and lift her eyes half nervously.

As she did so she met the burning gaze of a pair of dark eyes watching her from behind a tree.

A scream of surprise and terror. Jaquelina pulled her hand from Walter Earle's arm and rushed forward. The outlaw chief, for it was no other, was turning to fly; but she caught his arm and held it tightly in both her own.

"The outlaw! the outlaw!" she panted. "Do not let him escape!"

He was surrounded in an instant. He made no attempt to fly, but stood still, gazing around him on the angry faces of the men, and his dark eyes blazed as they rested on the excited face of the fair girl who had betrayed him to his enemies.