"It is not that," she says, falteringly; "I am not angry with you, Vane, but it is best to--to wait." "Until when?" he asks, bending his curious eyes on the bright, arch face. And looking frankly at him, she replies, gently: "Until love comes." "Until love comes?" he repeats, blankly. "But I thought you owned----" "Yes, I know," she says, checking him with uplifted finger, "but I mean mutual love." With a light dip of the oars she whirls the boat around on its homeward way. The graceful head is poised in a free, half-haughty fashion. He cannot understand the strange look on the dusky, lovely face. It is neither pride nor humility, yet a strange blending of both. After a moment she says in her clear, sweet voice, toned to a softer cadence than usual: "Do not think me stubborn that I refuse to own your claim just now, Vane--I am proud in my own way. I cannot come to you until you wish it from your heart." He is silent, gazing at her in sheer perplexity. She goes on gently: "You see I was deceived at first, Vane--not willfully--I do not accuse you of _that_, but I fancied there must be in your heart some little spark of tenderness for love to grow upon. When I found out my mistake--how my uncle had forced the match upon you, and how but for my too eager consent Maud might have been yours, I--well, _it was hard to bear_! So I would rather wait, Vane--until the year you wished is over. Perhaps by then, the soreness of your regret for--another--will be past, and your heart may be open to me." Has the moisture of the sea got into his eyes that they look so dim? He draws his handkerchief across them, and can find no words to answer. So she resumes, after a minute's weary waiting: "I am not perverse, Vane. I am not fighting against my fate--only trying to make the best of it. You will give me a fair chance to win your heart before I wear your name? Will you not?" "Yes," he answers, wondering at her strangeness. "Thank you. Now we will return to my uncle. I will take the liberty to invite you to breakfast with him. Will you come?" "Yes, thank you," he replies, and the little boat touching the shore, they spring out and go up the walk together, both very silent and thoughtful. He begins to think that Mr. Langton's quaint phrase of yesterday is true. "There is more in Reine than we suspected." CHAPTER XV. A sociable breakfast for three being laid in Mr. Langton's room, the small party proceed to enjoy it, Vane and Reine with appetites sharpened by the early morning air, and the sharp sea-breeze. The old millionaire regards the young people curiously beneath his shaggy brows. Something in their expressions makes him say, confidently: "You have come to an understanding regarding that secret mission, you two, I see." "Yes," Reine answers, giving him a radiant glance from under her drooping, black-fringed lashes. "And you are ready to return to America?"