Mr. and Mrs. Muir were anxiously awaiting them on the piazza as they trotted smartly up the avenue.  “It’s all right,” cried Graydon.  “The horse has learned to know his mistress, and will give no more trouble.”

“I wish you had as much sense,” growled Muir, in his mustache; then added, aloud, “Come to supper.  Mary could not eat anything till assured of your safety.”

“Yes, Henry, I won’t keep you waiting a moment, but go in with my habit on.  I suppose the rest are all through, and I’m as ravenous as a wolf.”

They were soon having the merriest little supper, full of laughing reminiscence, and Henry rubbed his hands under the table as he thought, “Arnault is off mooning with the speculator, and Graydon doesn’t look as if the green-eyed monster had much of a grip upon him.”

Miss Wildmere’s solicitude would not permit her to prolong her walk with Arnault, and she returned to the parlor comparatively early in the evening.  She found Graydon awaiting her, and he was as quietly devoted as ever.  She looked at him a little questioningly, but he met her eyes with his quiet and assured look.  When she danced with Arnault and other gentlemen he sought a partner in Madge or some other lady; and once, while they were walking on the piazza, and Miss Wildmere said, “You must have enjoyed yourself immensely with Miss Alden to have been out so long,” he replied, “I did.  I hope you passed your time as agreeably.”

She saw that her relations with Arnault gave him an advantage and a freedom which he proposed to use—­that she had no ground on which to find fault—­and that he was too proud to permit censure for a course less open to criticism than her own.

Before she slept she thought long and deeply, at last concluding that perhaps affairs were taking the right turn for her purpose.  Graydon was tolerating as a disagreeable necessity what he regarded as her filial diplomacy with Arnault.  He was loyally and quietly waiting until this necessity should cease, and was so doing because he supposed it to be her wish.  If she could keep him in just this attitude it would leave her less embarrassed, give her more time, than if he were an ardent and jealous suitor.  She was scarcely capable of love, but she admired him more than ever each day.  She saw that he was the superior of Arnault in every way, and was so recognized by all in the house; therefore one of her strongest traits—­vanity—­was enlisted in his behalf.  She saw, also, that he represented a higher type of manhood than she had been accustomed to, and she was beginning to stand in awe of him also, but for reasons differing widely from those which caused her fear of Arnault.  She dreaded the latter’s pride, the resolute selfishness of his scheme of life, which would lead him to drop her should she interfere with it.  She was learning to dread even more Graydon’s high-toned sense of honor, the final decisions he reached from motives which had slight influence with her.  What if she should permit both men to slip from her grasp, while she hesitated?  She fairly turned cold with horror at the thought of this and of the poverty which might result.