"Nothing!" she insisted. "I am telling you nothing--only--_wait_!" She spoke hurriedly, catching her breath. "Before day-break I will be on that hill over there between your ranch and here--there above Fritz's grave, to watch the dawn of day--and the sunrise and----" "And I will be waiting for you! God bless you, dear." He kissed the brown hand, which was snatched hurriedly from his clasp just as Sydney rode up beside them. "You mustn't believe _anything_," she gasped under her breath. "_Everything!_" he insisted. "Your horse is loose, pard," said Sydney, "I thought I caught sight of it over there, but couldn't see anything of it when I rode over. You're afoot! Now what are you going to do about it?" "Walk," replied the girl, darting a quick look at Livingston. "Half a mile is _nothing_." "Half a mile," laughed her cousin. "You mean two miles and a half, don't you?" "Oh, the horse isn't far! We'll find it the first thing in the morning. Good-night, you two! It's time school-teachers were in bed--and everyone else. Good-night!" She turned around and waved her hand at them just before the flap of the white tent closed upon her. Clarice yawned dismally. "Will you never settle down, Hope? Isn't this lovely and comfortable? So cool after the hot, fatiguing day, I just love it! Whom were you talking to--Livingston? What a shame he's married! He's such a dear boy, why, I'd almost be tempted, _if_ he wasn't married----But pshaw! Lady Helene Livingston is one of those frizzy-haired blondes that suggest curl papers and peroxide, and she affects velvet dresses, black or purple--but always _velvet_--and a feather! I've seen her loads of times, but she doesn't go in our set, because she's taken up with those Grandons. You know Harriet married an English peer, with a title, _nobody_ over there recognizes. She was such a pretty girl that she might have done something for her family, but I don't think the poor man fared as well as he expected, for it's well known that old Grandon hasn't a half a million in his own name. But Harriet lives well, and entertains a lot of English people nobody else cares to have. Lady Helene Livingston is pretty enough in spite of her velvet and feathers to get on anywhere, if only she didn't follow in the train of Harriet's crowd. I wonder how it happens that she never comes out here?" "The curl papers and velvet may have something to do with that," said Hope, settling down beside Louisa, on the opposite side of the tent, with a motion as weary as if the only thought she possessed was to secure a good night's sleep. "Velvet and feathers," she yawned. "Clarice, do you know that it's nearly eleven o'clock?" "Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I'd never have thought it. See how bright it is in here--almost like day." "Full moon," observed Hope. "It will be light like this until almost morning, and then darkness for a little while before daylight."