“Well, what is it?” cried Elizabeth, with a smile that was a flash, possibly of annoyance, rather than a gleam of pleasure.  “As the saying goes, what axe have you to grind, Master Edmonson?  All this flattery must be for some object.  Can I do anything for you?  If only I had influence with the Grand Mogul, or any other high official, I would speak to him for you with pleasure.  You see your cause is already won, so don’t waste any more powder.”  And she turned to him with a little laugh that was both bitter and defiant.  It was a bad time to tell Elizabeth Royal that she had powers of fascination.  It was possible that Edmonson understood her, for his observations, though not openly expressed like Sir Temple Dacre’s, were more pertinent.  But this seemed to him an opportunity not to be lost.  “The voice that soothes the wounds of vanity is always welcome,” he mused.  “I only meant that it pleased me to talk with you,” he answered.  “I had no intention of gilding refined gold.  As you so frankly conclude I have an axe to grind, there is no reason why I should hide the fact.  But you can not grind it, else I should come to you.  I am equal to that.  And he looked at her, first with a cool audacity in his eyes, which he knew she would meet; and then as he held her gaze with a sudden softening from which she turned away.

“Then, if I can not, why don’t you ask some one who can, Colonel Archdale, for instance?  He likes to be obliging—­that is, I take it for granted he does.”

“Perhaps I shall.”  They had left the water now and were following the path up toward the house.  There was a pause.  “The air of this place does not agree with you,” he began abruptly, “You are much paler than when you came.”

“I am happy to say it is quite the contrary with you,” she answered.  “Our sea breezes have given you the hue of health.”

“Yes, that—­and other things.  You turn away from any reference to your self, but you can never prevent my caring more for your welfare than for anything else in the world.”  He was speaking softly in tones that were deep with earnestness.  There was no doubt that in some way she did fascinate him.

She came to a halt and looked him full in the face without a blush, an added pallor, or any sign of emotion.  At that moment she felt herself Archdale’s wife, and felt, too, that Edmonson considered her so.

“You can’t have any great objects in your life, then, if you fritter away your interest on an idle acquaintance whom you will forget as soon as you are out of her sight, and, if you’ll pardon me, who will forget you, except when something calls up your name, or a reminiscence of you.”  Even Edmonson as he stood staring at her drew his breath like one recovering from a shock.  Then as he looked her face changed and he saw tears on her lashes.  She reached out her hand toward him and raised her eyes to his with a pathetic appeal.  “I know it’s the habit of gentlemen to make gallant