Time passed, and she did not come.  He looked through a parlor window, thinking that she might have entered by some other means of ingress; and while he was standing there steps slowly approached from a part of the piazza which was usually in utter darkness, and which was known as the “lovers’ retreat.”  As the figures passed a lighted window he recognized them, and was also observed.  He was too angry and jealous now to carry out his purpose, and returned to the general hallway.

Here he was joined a moment later by Miss Wildmere and Mr. Arnault, and the former began to chat with him in imperturbable ease, while the gentleman bowed and sought another partner for the waltz that was about to be danced.  Graydon would not show his chagrin under the many eyes directed toward them, but she nevertheless saw his anger in the cold expression of his eyes, and realized her danger.  She ignored everything with inimitable skill and sweetness, and there was nothing for him to do but take her out with the others.  Indeed, it almost instantly became his policy to convince observers that their surmises were without foundation.  He determined that the girl should show him all the favor his rival had enjoyed, or else—­A sudden flash of his eyes indicated to his observant companion that all her skill would be required.  She was graciousness itself, and when Arnault could not observe her, stole swift and almost pleading glances into her partner’s eyes.

Another observed her, however.  Madge did come down at last, for she had concluded that the memorable day should not close until she had had one more glimpse of the problem which had grown so dark and hopeless.  Graydon soon observed her standing in the doorway, but then she was talking and laughing with a lady friend.  A moment later she glided out on the floor with one of a half dozen who had been waiting for the favor.  Graydon sought to catch her eye, but did not succeed.  Again she made upon his mind the impression of troubled perplexity, but his purpose was uppermost, and he was bent on carrying it out.

“Come,” he said to Miss Wildmere, in quiet tones, “I should enjoy a stroll on the piazza, the room has grown so warm and close.”

Feeling that she must yield, she did so with ready grace and apparent willingness, and Graydon led her out through the main entrance, that it might be observed that he received no less favor than had been given to another.

“She is playing them both pretty strong,” whispered one of the committee, before referred to, that sits perpetually on the phases of life at such resorts.

“I feared you would not be very patient,” said Miss Wildmere, in a low tone.

“I said I would be reasonably patient,” was the reply.

“Reason again.”

“Yes, Miss Wildmere; I think I can justly say that I am endowed with both heart and reason.  There are some questions in life that demand both.”

“Please do not speak so coldly.  You do not understand.”