Just as Elizabeth was thinking over this conversation, and giving another little sigh for Tom and what she feared for him, a blithe young voice rang in the hall, carolling like a bird.

"There she is!" exclaimed Tom.

His face lighted up, his whole frame seemed to expand with delight. Elizabeth watched him. She knew better than ever that his heartstrings were twined about that young creature, that his very soul had gone out in worship at her feet.

"And where are you hidden, Lady Bess?" sang Elsie, gayly.

Tom rushed to the door and flung it open, upsetting the table again, and this time leaving Elizabeth to pick it up herself.

"Here she is, my fairy princess!" he called, standing in the doorway and looking up at her as she paused on the stairs.

"In that dismal den and guarded by a dragon," cried Elsie, peeping at him through the banisters, mischievously. "Pray where did you come from, C[oe]ur de Lion?"

"If you knew what I had brought for my lady-bird, you would be on your prettiest behavior and give me your best welcome," said Tom.

"It's bon-bons!" cried Elsie with a shriek of delight. "The ogre means pralines and caramels and marons glacÉs!"

"Come down and see," said Tom, mysteriously.

Elsie danced downstairs and entered the room where her sister sat.

"Ugh, the ugly place!" said she. "It makes me shiver!"

"Better come into the den than lose the sweets," said Tom, opening the papers and pretending to eat greedily.

"He won't leave a drop!" cried Elsie, darting upon him.

Tom prolonged the playful struggle artfully enough; and when a truce was concluded it was only on condition that he should feed her with the sugarplums, and as he did not satisfy her greediness fast enough, there was a great deal of sport and laughter between the pair.

Elizabeth sat in the window and watched them, sighing sometimes and regarding Elsie with a strange pain in her eyes, as if annoyed and troubled that the happy creature could not leave her the full affection of this one heart.

"I want to go out on the water," said Elsie. "Will you take me, you ugly giant?"

"Won't I!" said Tom. "I'd take you to the moon if you liked."

"But I don't wish to try the moon, thank you; a nice long row will satisfy me. Come along, Bessie!"

"Not to-day," answered Elizabeth coldly.

"You're a hateful, poky thing!" cried Elsie. "Well, I shall go, the sun is lovely."

"I'll run down to the shore and get the boat ready," said Tom, ecstatically.

He darted away, and Elsie stood for a few moments crushing the candies between her white teeth and looking at Elizabeth, half frightened, half defiant.

"You are very busy," said she.

"One can't be idle," replied Elizabeth.

"Oh, can't one? It just suits me, thank you."

"Elsie," said her sister, suddenly, "I want to say something."

"If it is anything unpleasant, I won't hear. I won't hear. I want to be happy. Let me alone!"

"It is about yourself; don't be alarmed."

"Well, say it; but you are going to scold or something else dreadful, I know by your voice."

"Don't be such a baby," said Elizabeth, impatiently.

"There! I knew you were cross! How can I help being a baby? I like it, and I will be one."

"Do you think you are acting honestly with Tom?" said Elizabeth.

"I'm not acting at all," replied Elsie fretfully. "I can't help his coming here constantly. You wouldn't have me rude to your own cousin?"

"You know what I mean. He loves you, in spite of your conduct before he went abroad——"

"I can't help it," Elsie broke in again. "If people will fall in love with me it's their own fault; I don't ask them."

"But you can help encouraging him and leading him on to greater pain."

Elsie pouted.

"How do you know I shall?"

"You would not marry him," exclaimed Elizabeth, suddenly. "You—you—you——"

"You don't know anything about it. Let Tom and me alone. I think you are growing a cross old thing."

"Oh, Elsie, do be serious for one moment."

"Let me alone!" she repeated. "You are always spoiling my sunshine. I believe you hate me!"

"Don't talk so wildly, Elsie. But you cannot blame me for being anxious about Tom's happiness."

"And, pray, should I make him wretched if I married him?" she exclaimed defiantly.

"You won't do that. You——"

"I'll do what I please; and don't you meddle with me, just remember that!"

The voice was sharp and unlike Elsie's usual tone, but she quickly resumed her childish manner, and added:

"I'll be good—don't scold. There, I'm going now—good-bye!"

She danced out of the room and through the house, and Elizabeth heard her voice on the lawn, calling to Tom, to know if the boat was ready.

Elizabeth kept her seat, looking absently across the water. Presently she saw the little skiff shoot out from the shore, under the impetus of Tom's muscular arms, while Elsie leaned back in the stern, wrapped in a pale blue shawl, and reminding Elizabeth of the old German legend of the Lurlei.

She sat there a long time, with her former mournful thoughts all trooping back, like ravens to a desolated nest. The gloom upon her spirits waxed deeper, and the chill that had begun during the past days to creep about her heart tightened and grew cold, as if it were changing to an icy band, which would freeze her pulses in its tightening clasp. She looked out through the sunshine, watching the light boat till it became a mere speck in the distance, and finally disappeared among the windings of the long curve of land which stretched out into the ocean.

Thinking, thinking, always the same dreary round, till she grew so weary with the ceaseless anxiety, the constant necessity for plots and plans, the need of reflection, even, in slightest act, and, worse than all, the sleepless fear of discovery which hovered over her, asleep or awake, that it seemed sometimes that she could no longer uphold the burden, but must allow it to fall and crush her.

The afternoon was passing, but the little boat had not yet appeared in sight again. There was no danger that Tom would think of fatigue while he could sit looking in the face of his syren, listening to her low, sweet songs; nor was there the slightest possibility of her ever remembering that the strongest muscles must at last feel a little need of relaxation. Just as long as it pleased her to float over the sunlit waters, carolling her pretty melodies or talking gay nonsense to Tom, and blinding him utterly with the wicked lightning of her eyes, she would think of nothing else.

At last Mr. Mellen's step sounded in the hall. Elizabeth heard it, and immediately gathered up her embroidery silks, making a great pretence of being busy, lest he should enter suddenly, and pierce her with one of his dark, suspicious glances, which made her heart actually stand still with apprehension.

He came on towards the room, looked in at the door and saw his wife sitting there apparently quiet, comfortable, and wholly occupied with her pretty task.

She glanced up and nodded a welcome.

"So you have come back," she said; "I have been wishing for you."

He smiled, came forward and stood by her, saying:

"I thought you had given up any such weakness. You seem very busy."

"This tiresome embroidery has been lying about so long that I am working on it for very shame," she replied.

"Elsie began it and was delighted with it for three days, but she has not touched it since."

"Very like the little fairy," he said, with a smile any reference to the young girl always brought to his lips.

Elizabeth did not wish to talk, it was important that she should hide the real feelings that oppressed her even under an appearance of playfulness. She looked up and smiled:

"If you were good-natured you would sit down here and read to me. There is Bulwer's new book."

"I will, with pleasure; but where is Elsie?"

"Oh, Tom Fuller came, and she made him take her out for a row; so I have been alone in my den, as she calls it."

"The child can't bear the least approach to a shadow," he said; "she must have her sunshine undisturbed."

He drew an easy chair near the window where Elizabeth sat, took up the novel she had asked him to read, and began the splendid story.

He read beautifully, and Elizabeth was glad to forget her unquiet reflections in the melody of his voice and the rare interest of the tale. Mellen himself was in a mood to be comfortable and at rest.

The brightness of the sunset was flooding the waters before either of them looked up again. Then Mellen said:

"Those careless creatures ought to come back; it grows chilly on the water as evening comes on, and the least thing gives Elsie cold."

Elizabeth shaded her eyes with her hand and looked over the bay.

"They are coming," she said; "I can see them."

Mellen looked in the direction to which she pointed, and saw the boat rounding a point of land and making swiftly up the bay.

"Tom is as strong as a young Hercules," he said, watching the little skiff as it fairly flew through the water under the impulse of that powerful arm, and aided by the inward rush of the tide.

They remained watching it till it approached near enough for them to distinguish Elsie's white wrappings. Suddenly Mellen said:

"She is rocking the boat dreadfully! She is standing up—The girl is crazy to run such risks!"

Elizabeth looked and saw Elsie erect in the skiff, her shawl floating around her, rocking the boat to and fro with reckless force, while she could see by Tom's gestures that he was vainly expostulating with her upon her imprudence.

Mellen went into the hall and out on the veranda, with some vague idea of trying to attract the imprudent girl's attention by signals; but the skiff was far off, and Elsie too much occupied to observe them.

Elizabeth threw down her work and followed him, standing by his side in silent apprehension.

"She is mad!" exclaimed Mellen, "absolutely mad!"

Elsie's gay laugh rang over the waters, and they could see Tom expostulating with more animated gestures.

"She will fall overboard, as sure as fate!" cried Mellen. "Oh! Elsie, Elsie!"

But the exclamation could not reach the reckless creature; probably she would have paid no attention had she heard it.

"Oh, see how it rocks!" cried Elizabeth with a shiver.

"She is frightened at her own recklessness," said Mellen, "but will not stop, because it disturbs Tom."

"Perhaps there is less danger than we think," began Elizabeth, but a cry from her husband checked the words.

She looked—the boat had tipped till the edge was even with the water; suddenly Elsie tottered, lost her balance—there was a smothered shriek from the distance—then she disappeared under the crested waves.