Old Dempster drove her away in the delicious summer evening. White Socks made good play and brought them into Loggerly at late twilight. All the party greeted Miss Sullivan cordially and gaily asked her experiences of storm life. She did not dwell upon her share in the rescue--some occult influence seemed to hold her back from speaking of it--and soon retired. Extreme fatigue saved her from the excitement of dreams, and she sank into the blessedness of a sleep undisturbed by storminess either from within or without. Sleep and change of scene will draw a blank between her and the adventures of to-day: but she will hardly forget them. Mad storms by the maddened sea are not daily events in the lives of quiet ladies of fortune; nor does it happen to every promenader by a beach to be the point of safety whither a returning wanderer may drift away from his death. After Miss Sullivan’s disappearance, her companions all talked of her, as people always do of the dear departed. “Odd idea, that of hers--to go out in the wet,” observed Gyas. “How would you and I look, old Clo, taking a picturesque ducking?” “Did anyone ever see you doing anything picturesque, Mr. Cutus?” inquired Miss Julia innocently. “Pictures are done of him--lots of ’em by Scalper,” said Cloanthus. “Scalper says his name describes him exactly--he’s the best guy he can find. There--I wouldn’t have told that, Gyas, if you hadn’t called me old Clo. You know I don’t like nicknames.” “I wonder Miss Sullivan never married,” remarked someone, to end this controversy. “Miss Sullivan has not been rich very long,” said Mrs. Wilkes, in a tone to indicate that no further explanation was needed; “only since the death of her step-father. He had some property in Chicago which suddenly became of enormous value. He left everything to her. You know her own family were great people once, but lost caste and wealth by a transaction of her father’s. After that, she was obliged to teach in a public school for a while. Then she became governess to Clara Waddie and Diana, Mr. Waddie’s ward. When they went to Europe, she came to us.” “Yes!” said Julia, with ardency. “I was an immense little fool, till then. But, mamma, wasn’t there a story of a love affair of hers, while she was young?” “Horace Belden hinted something of the kind,” replied her mother, “and that he was the object. But he is very willing to claim conquests. As soon as the news of her great inheritance came, while she was with us in Paris, Mr. Belden called upon her. He pretended great surprise that she was our governess and regret that he had not seen his old friend before.” “He knew it, I’m sure he did!” cried Julia. “Miss Sullivan and I met him twice in the Louvre, and both times he dodged--palpably. I could not understand why.”