“I wonder if it was not Mr. Meredith who made you stop?” said Aimée. “I saw the diamonds he brought you; but, though diamonds are very pretty, they are not as good as a lover like young Lochinvar.” “You will change your mind when you are a little older, my dear. Lovers are plenty, but diamonds--However, it is not certain that I will take them. It is only certain that I can not throw away everything by going with Lennox to-night. He must wait.” “But perhaps he won’t wait,” said Aimée. “If he is so impetuous, perhaps he will say that it must be this night or never.” “There is no danger that he will say anything of the kind,” replied Fanny, with a comfortable assurance of her own power. “He will never give me up until I am married to somebody else. He makes love like an angel,” she added, with a stifled sigh. “I have had a great many lovers, of course, but nobody that I ever liked half as well as Lennox. But I must not think of him; and as for seeing him--well, if I did that, I should be on board the Ariel before day. I will give my chance of a cruise over to you, Aimée.” “I only wish I could take it,” said Aimée, with the most evident sincerity. “Now we must go home,” said the other, glancing out at the darkening water. “But first come and let me show you exactly where the boat will be to-night.” II. Twilight had given way to night, and the sky was thickset with golden stars, when the two girls reached the door of their boarding house. A stream of light from the dining room, and a clatter of knives and forks and voices announced that supper was in progress, so they turned at once into that apartment. A party of about a dozen people--chiefly feminine--were gathered round the table. One of these, a handsome middle-aged lady, looked up when the two entered. “Why are you so late, Fanny?” she asked. “You know that I do not like you to be out after dark without an escort.” “But it is so hard to get in _before_ dark, mamma,” said Miss Berrien, taking her place at the table. “It is lovely on the sea wall at twilight, and the air--oh, what a feeling it gives one! Do you suppose it can be ozone?--ozone in the air, I mean? Well”--as nobody appeared able to answer this question--“whatever it is, it is wonderful in its effect. My appetite is a most serious fact, and I am quite ready to do justice to your good things, Mrs. Shreve.” Mrs. Shreve--an elderly faded widow, who presided at the head of the table--smiled faintly. The faintness of the smile was not owing to any disapproval of her young boarder’s appetite, but was due to the fact that, like a good many other estimable people, she lived persistently in the shadow rather than in the sunshine of life.