"That isn't what you'd call a _pretty_ tune, not near as pretty as a lot that Edna sings," she remarked, "but that song goes right to my backbone somehow and chills right up and down it; and the way she says,-- 'Leave me, leave me, let me go And see the land where corals lie,' it sort of comes over me when she stays long down on the rocks in a storm, and makes me feel queer." "That's right, Miss Lacey," remarked Edna, without turning around. "I'm a very sentimental and desperate person." "You are when you sing, my dear," retorted Miss Martha with conviction. "Now I'll give you the Capri one," said Edna, "but I never saw a day at Capri that fitted it as every day does here;" and with wind and wave outside making an obligato to her flowing accompaniment, she sang "In Haven." "Closely let me hold thy hand, Storms are sweeping sea and land, Love alone will stand. "Closely cling, for waves beat fast, Foam flakes cloud the hurrying blast, Love alone will last. "Kiss my lips and softly say, 'Joy, sea-swept, may fade to-day; Love alone will stay.'" Sylvia's hands were pressed to her eyes when the song was finished, and her aunt looked at her curiously, for she saw that she could not speak. Had Miss Martha been told that the young man in Judge Trent's office had any part in the tumult of feeling that sent the color to Sylvia's temples and the tears to her eyes she would have scouted the idea as too wild for consideration. "That _is_ a very pretty one," Miss Martha remarked in the silence that followed. She spoke to ease what she felt to be a tense situation. At the same time she winked at Edna, who had turned about to face her auditors. Sylvia's eyes remained hidden so Miss Martha continued:-- "There's something about those words that makes me think of 'Oh, Promise Me.' That's my favorite song. Do see if you can't remember it, Edna." But the latter rose and came back to the fire. "I must dry my hair," she said. "That's the drawback of not being a real mermaid." She sank again on the rug near Sylvia. The latter uncovered her flushed eyes and reached one hand down to Edna, who took it. "If you hadn't--hadn't had anything," said Sylvia unsteadily, "you'd understand." "I do," replied Edna; but she was mistaken. Though she pressed the hand very sympathetically she did not understand. CHAPTER XX THE POOL The next day being Sunday Miss Lacey vetoed the excursion after berries as a snare to Benny Merritt's feet, which should be turned toward the little island church, whether or not they would be. "Never mind," said Edna philosophically; "the longer we wait the more berries we shall find. We can count on good weather for some time now." "You wouldn't want to sail anyway to-day," said Miss Lacey. "It looks blue enough, but there are white caps left over from yesterday that would never get _me_ to ride on them, I can tell you."