Five minutes passed. He no longer waited in the summer-house, but paced impatiently before the entrance to the labyrinth. Another five minutes. He was deceived, undoubtedly. She and her sisters were probably waiting for him and laughing at him on the lawn. He ground his heel into the clover, and threw his switch into the thicket. Yet he would give her one--only one moment more. "Captain Carroll!" The voice had been and was to HIM the sweetest in the world; but even a stranger could not have resisted the spell of its musical inflection. He turned quickly. She was advancing towards him from the summer-house. "Did you think I was coming that way--where everybody could follow me?" she laughed, softly. "No; I came through the thicket over there," indicating the direction with her flexible shoulder, "and nearly lost my slipper and my eyes--look!" She threw back the inseparable lace shawl from her blond head, and showed a spray of myrtle clinging like a broken wreath to her forehead. The young officer remained gazing at her silently. "I like to hear you speak my name," he said, with a slight hesitation in his breath. "Say it again." "Car-roll, Car-roll, Car-roll," she murmured gently to herself two or three times, as if enjoying her own native trilling of the r's. "It's a pretty name. It sounds like a song. Don Carroll, eh! El Capitan Don Carroll." "But my first name is Henry," he said, faintly. "'Enry--that's not so good. Don Enrico will do. But El Capitan Carroll is best of all. I must have it always: El Capitan Carroll!" "Always?" He colored like a boy. "Why not?" He was confusedly trying to look through her brown lashes; she was parrying him with the steel of her father's glance. "Come! Well! Captain Carroll! It was not to tell me your name--that I knew already was pretty--Car-roll!" she murmured again, caressing him with her lashes; "it was not for this that you asked me to meet you face to face in this--cold"--she made a movement of drawing her lace over her shoulders--"cold daylight. That belonged to the lights and the dance and the music of last night. It is not for this you expect me to leave my guests, to run away from Monsieur Garnier, who pays compliments, but whose name is not pretty--from Mr. Raymond, who talks OF me when he can't talk TO me. They will say, This Captain Carroll could say all that before them." "But if they knew," said the young officer, drawing closer to her with a paling face but brightening eyes, "if they knew I had anything else to say, Miss Saltonstall--something--pardon me--did I hurt your hand?--something for HER alone--is there one of them that would have the right to object? Do not think me foolish, Miss Saltonstall--but--I beg--I implore you to tell me before I say more." "Who would have a right?" said Maruja, withdrawing her hand but not her dangerous eyes. "Who would dare forbid you talking to me of my sister? I have told you that Amita is free--as we all are."