“Madam Sylvester!” exclaimed Editha, joyously, and not noticing her father’s agitation. “I am so glad. I liked her so much at Newport. I shall be glad to extend our acquaintance.” “Your pleasure is reciprocated, I can assure you, for madam was equally delighted with you,” Paul returned, with his eyes still on Mr. Dalton. He had withdrawn a trifle within the shadow of a tree, and stood with his head bent, looking down upon the ground, his face dark with anger, while he worked his hands in a nervous way and gnawed his under lip. “What in thunder ails the man, to make him look and act so strangely?” the young man asked, within himself. “Are madam and her brother here at the garden-party?” Editha asked. “Yes; the fame of it reached us before we arrived, and you know the electric light is visible for several miles before we reach Saratoga; so, notwithstanding our weariness, we all thought we must come and take a look at the enchanted place.” “It is lovely, isn’t it?” she asked, her eyes roving in every direction over the bright scene. “Yes, indeed; I never saw anything like it before. Madam and her brother went to the dancing pavilion to see if they could find you, but I thought I should discover you in some quiet nook, as I have.” Editha laughed, and the beautiful color rushed half guiltily to her cheeks. “You would not have thought so if you had come fifteen minutes earlier. I think the music has bewildered me to-night for I have been dancing with the merriest. But how does it happen that you are a visitor at Saratoga?” she asked, to change the subject. “Oh, after receiving your note telling me of your destination, Newport lost its charms, and I felt in immediate need of medicinal spring water,” he said, in a playful strain, delighted to find her so improved and animated. “Madam Sylvester was affected in the same way,” he added. “I expect that remarkable woman will be tempted to kidnap you and bear you away to regions unknown before long, she has taken such a fancy to you.” “Just hear that, papa—fancy any one taking such a liking to me that they would want to kidnap me. Why, what is the matter? Are you ill?” Editha cried, as she turned toward her father, and was transfixed by one glance into his face. It was white as alabaster, and his eyes glowed like two coals of fire with some violent inward emotion. “No, no; not ill, but very tired. I think we ought to return at once to our hotel, Editha,” he answered, with an evident effort to regain his composure. “I am sorry if you are tired, papa; I thought you were enjoying yourself immensely. Sit down and rest in some quiet place, please. I really do not like to return just yet.” “But you are not strong; I fear the dampness will do you injury,” Mr. Dalton said, anxious to get her away at once, and never having given a thought to the dampness until that moment. “I am very warm and comfortable; indeed I thought the air remarkably clear and dry to-night,” Editha said, without moving.