“What silly things I say!” she murmured—­“You can see for yourself my nerves are in a bad state!—­I am altogether unstrung!”

I stood for a moment looking at her, and considering the perplexity in which we both seemed involved.

“If you would rather not dine with Mr. Santoris this evening,” I said, at last,—­“and if you think his presence has a bad effect on you, let us make some excuse not to go.  I will willingly stay with you, if you wish me to do so.”

She gave me a surprised glance.

“You are very unselfish,” she said—­“and I wish I were not so fanciful.  It’s most kind of you to offer to stay with me and to give up an evening’s pleasure—­for I suppose it is a pleasure?  You like Mr. Santoris?”

The colour rushed to my face in a warm glow.

“Yes,” I answered, turning slightly away from her—­“I like him very much.”

“And he likes you better than he likes any of us,” she said—­“In fact, I believe if it had not been for you, we should never have met him in this strange way—­”

“Why, how can you make that out?” I asked, smiling.  “I never heard of him till your father spoke of him,—­and never saw him till—­”

“Till when?”—­she demanded, quickly.

“Till the other night,” I answered, hesitatingly.

She searched my face with questioning eyes.

“I thought you were going to say that you, like myself, had some idea or recollection of having met him before,” she said.  “However, I shall not ask you to sacrifice your pleasure for me,—­in fact, I have made up my mind to go to this dinner, though Dr. Brayle doesn’t wish it.”

“Oh!  Dr. Brayle doesn’t wish it!” I echoed—­“And why?”

“Well, he thinks it will not be good for me—­and—­and he hates the very sight of Santoris!”

I said nothing.  She rose to leave my cabin.

“Please don’t think too hardly of me!” she said, pleadingly,—­“I’ve told you frankly just how I feel,—­and you can imagine how glad I shall be when this yachting trip comes to an end.”

She went away then, and I stood for some minutes lost in thought.  I dared not pursue the train of memories with which she had connected herself in my mind.  My chief idea now was to find some convenient method of immediately concluding my stay with the Harlands and leaving their yacht at some easy point of departure for home.  And I resolved I would speak to Santoris on this subject and trust to him for a means whereby we should not lose sight of each other, for I felt that this was imperative.  And my spirit rose up within me full of joy and pride in its instinctive consciousness that I was as necessary to him as he was to me.