She never looked once in Graydon’s direction but that Arnault was aware of the act.  There was no longer any menace in his deportment toward her—­he was as devoted as the place and time would permit—­but in his eyes dwelt a vigilance and a resolution which should have given her warning.

After supper Mr. and Mrs. Muir found a comfortable nook on the piazza, and the banker smoked his cigar with ineffable content.

“Do you feel too tired for a waltz, Madge?” Graydon asked.

“The idea! when I’ve rested in the cars half a day.”

“Oh, Madge!” he whispered; “dear, sweet little friend—­you know I mean sister, only I dare not say it—­I’m so glad to be with you again!  What makes you look so radiant to-night?  You look as though you had a world of happy thoughts behind those sparkling eyes.”

“Nonsense, Graydon!  You are always imagining things.  I have youth, good health, have had my supper—­a trout supper, too—­and I like to dance, just as a bird enjoys flying.”

“You seem a bird-of-paradise.  Happy the man who coaxes you into his cage!  Brother or not, when your beaux become too attentive they will find me a perfect dragon of a critic.”

“When I meet my ideal, you shall have nothing to say.”

“I suppose not.  I am at a loss to know where you will find him.”

“I shan’t find him; he must find me.”

“He will be an idiot if he doesn’t.  Pardon me if I don’t dance any more to-night.  I have had a long tramp over mountain paths, followed by a long, rough ride in a farmer’s wagon, and now have a very important act to perform before I sleep.  As a proof of my fraternal—­I mean friendly—­confidence, I will tell you what it is, if you wish.”

“I don’t propose to fail in any friendly obligations, Graydon,” she replied, laughing, as they strolled out into the summer night, followed by Miss Wildmere’s half-desperate eyes.

As they walked down a path, Graydon said, “Take my arm; the pavement is a little rough.  Dear Madge, you look divine to night.  Every time I see you my wonder increases at what you accomplished out on the Pacific coast.  That great, boundless, sparkling ocean has given you something of its own nature.”

“Graydon, you must be more sensible.  When a fellow takes your arm you don’t squeeze it against your side and say, ‘Dear Tom,’ ‘Sweet Dick,’ or ‘Divine Harry,’ no matter how good friends they may be.  Friends don’t indulge in sentimental, far-fetched compliments.”

“I certainly never did with any friends of mine.  On this very walk you told me that you were not my sister, and added, ’There is no use in trying to ignore nature.’  See how true this last assertion is proving, now that I am again under your influence, and so enjoy your society that I cannot ignore nature.  During all those years when you were growing from childhood to womanhood I treated you as a sister, thought of you as such.  It was