“Iris!” I repeated, under my breath. “Iris!” ejaculated the governess. “Yes, Iris, if I may use the gentle name,” said the Professor. But I would not let him proceed; I felt for that woman down stairs as though she had been a man and a brother, and I was determined to save her from the rest. I threw my book and a great piece of rock over the side of that perfidious old demi-lune, the startled Professor rushed up the stairs, and there I was, innocently waking up, and regretting that the wind had blown the new volume off the parapet. I took that man’s arm, and I walked him home, and I never stopped talking one instant until I had masked the retreat of the governess up stairs to her own room; and then I went back to Hospital Street and told Sara. “No doubt she is sitting there now, surrounded by her relics, the vicious-looking roots, the shells, the lumps of coquina, the spiny things, and the bone,” said Sara, laughing. “Don’t laugh, Sara; it is too real. She liked that man.” “So much the worse for her, then,” replied my companion. “She had better tear out her heart and throw it to the dogs at once.” When Sara answered me after that fashion, I generally let her alone. “Aunt Diana is really going to-morrow,” I said, the next evening, as John Hoffman and I stood leaning on the Plaza railing, waiting for the mail. “Yes; shall you go also?” “No; we have decided to remain another week, Sara and I. But I am really surprised; I thought Iris would carry the day; she was determined to stay longer.” “I think I can account for that,” said John, smiling. “We were walking together last evening in the moonlight on the sea-wall, and, happening to stroll into the demi-lune--” “Oh, that demi-lune!” “Yes, that demi-lune. There we found the Captain.” “The Captain?” “The Captain. But not alone. Miss Arabella--Miss Van Amsterdam was with him!” Now Miss Van Amsterdam was a beauty and an heiress. The next morning we bade farewell to the departing half of our party. “Do you think that impervious old Professor will try it again between here and New York?” I said, as we strolled back from the little dépôt. “I doubt it,” answered Sara. “He is the kind that goes in ankle deep, and then hesitates over the final plunge. But probably all the rest of his life he will cherish the delusion that he had only to speak, and he will intimate as much to his cronies over a temperate and confidential glass of whisky on winter nights.” “After all, Miss Sharp is worth twenty Professors. How silently and even smilingly she bore her fate! Iris, now, pouted openly over the Captain’s desertion.” “She will forget all about it before she is half way to Tocoi, and there will be a new train of admirers behind her before the steamer enters the Savannah harbor,” said Sara, smiling. “Do you know who has been the real heroine of the romance of these last weeks, Sara?” “Who?” “The demi-lune!”