"As far as I know, she is absolutely indifferent. For her father she has a peculiarly strong and tender affection, and I shall be very much surprised if she ever marries." When she returned to her own room, she felt that she had stepped down from the witness stand after an adroit cross-examination, in which she had maintained her non-committal role. As the pleasant days passed, she and Judge Kent watched their host, hoping for some manifestation of tenderness, or pique, or consciousness of past suitor-claims that might portend possibility of renewal. No faintest evidence of other than calm, friendly, hospitable interest rewarded their scrutiny. If it were indeed complete surrender of hopes once cherished, would there not have been traces of disappointment, some bitterness, some cloud on face and manner? Although she was unusually free from coquetry, Eglah was too familiar with the moods of rejected lovers not to observe the exceptional demeanor of the master of Greyledge, and his cool _insouciance_ would have perplexed her had she not recollected his assurance that no word of his should ever recall the painful interview in the carriage. She noticed that he never touched her arm or hand if it could be avoided, and, if he really cared for her society, why did he invite Roger Hull to his house and afford him every opportunity to monopolize her? The weather continued favorable; the guests could not fail to regret the approaching end of their visit, and Mr. Herriott seemed unusually happy, yet he had abstained from being alone with Eglah. On the last day, at the close of dinner, the host proposed that coffee and cigars should be served on the terrace overhanging the water. The afternoon had been hot and sultry, and the full moon rose out of a tawny haze that smouldered at the horizon but silvered and glistened as the light swam through. Eliza stole away to pack the trunks, and Senator Kent, the professor, and Mr. Hull strolled up and down smoking, while Miss Roberts and Mr. Stapleton followed Mr. Herriott to the pavilion, where he unlocked a boat and fitted the oars. Miss Manning's favorite anisette had accomplished its mission, and her white head was bowed on the billowy lace fichu that covered her neck. Noiselessly Eglah slipped into the loggia, down the steps leading to the garden beyond the courtyard, and ran along a walk, dark under dense overhanging boughs. For a little while she must be alone to ponder the first really stern words her father had ever spoken to her. They were writing letters in the library that morning, when Senator Kent turned to her. "My daughter, I must tell you that I am watching very impatiently for the announcement of your acceptance of Herriott." "Father, you will never hear it."