“Come this way,” Ralph whispered, leading the fair girl down a path at right angles to the one they had been traversing; “we shall all meet at the gate;” and Star could find no reasonable excuse to offer, although her heart beat ominously at the request. The evening was delightfully cool and pleasant, the air fragrant with the perfume of many flowers, while the music in the distance lent its own enchantment to the place and hour. It was just the time for Cupid to be busy with his arrows, and Ralph Meredith felt that it was an opportunity not to be lost, and governed himself accordingly. “Miss Gladstone,” he said, abruptly, after a rather awkward silence, “I am obliged to return to New York to-morrow.” “Are you?” Star asked, in surprise. “Is it not a sudden departure?” “Rather. I had hoped to remain a week longer.” “Surely your sister does not accompany you? I should miss her sorely; I should regret to lose her more than I can tell you.” The young man’s face fell. _He_ had not been included in her regret. But he rallied, and said, lightly: “My sister is highly favored, Miss Gladstone; but I had flattered myself that I also should be missed.” “Pardon me, if my words conveyed to you the idea that you would not,” Star said, quickly. “You have been most kind, Mr. Meredith, and I shall most certainly miss your companionship and your friendly attentions.” _Friendly_ attentions! Mr. Meredith had received another stab. “But,” she added, “will Grace go with you? You have not yet told me, and I have not heard her say anything about leaving.” She hoped thus to ward off what she feared was coming, and turn the conversation in another channel.