"'When dawn awakes the eastern skies, And wooing zephyrs kiss the sea, In vain I sigh for those dark eyes That should have ope'd in love to me. But they have looked on me their last, Time's darkling wave they cheer no more, Which now in sadness rushes past To break upon an unknown shore.'" "Lina, hush," he said, impulsively, when she had sung that first verse. "That is too sad a song. Choose something gayer and more suited to our bridal eve." "I do not know any gay songs, Ronald," she replied, with some of the sadness of the song yet lingering on her face. "That is strange," he said. "Did you learn nothing bright and lively at school, Lina?" "No, I do not believe I did," she answered, musingly. "It seems to me that I always chose songs with a touch of sadness in them. Somehow I liked them best." But after a minute's thought she sang lightly: "'Here, take my heart--'twill be safe in thy keeping While I go wand'ring o'er land and o'er sea: Smiling or sorrowing, waking or weeping, What need I care, so my heart is with thee? "'If, in the race we are destined to run, love, They who have light hearts the happiest be, Then happier still must be they who have none, love, And that will be my case when mine is with thee.'" "Do you like that one any better, Ronald?" she said, with a smile, when she had finished. "It is a pretty song," he said, "but, do you know, Lina, you keep selecting songs that hint of separation and sorrow; I do not like to hear you. Darling, do you begin to realize that after to-morrow we shall be separated no more 'until death us do part?'" He took both her small hands in his as he asked the question. She lifted her eyes to his, and he saw that they were full of bright, unshed tears. "No, Ronald," she said, in a faint, fluttering voice. "I do not quite realize my happiness. It seems too bright to be real." She shivered slightly as she spoke, and gave a swift, nervous look around her. The soft sigh of the evening breeze, the rustling leaves seemed to whisper threateningly: "In the moment that is the happiest of your whole life I shall take my revenge!" "Lina, I do not believe you are well," cried Ronald Valchester, anxiously. "I saw you shivering that moment." "The twilight is coming on, and these September evenings are chilly," she answered, rising. "Let us go to the house and sit on the porch. Uncle Charlie will be very glad to see you." When they had crossed the purling brook and gone into the little vine-wreathed porch, Jaquelina felt easier. She was nervous out in the orchard among the whispering grasses. She fancied a dark, demoniacal face peering at her behind the trees. When she crossed the brook it seemed to be singing loudly: "In the moment that is the happiest of your whole life I shall take my revenge." The shadow of Gerald Huntington's vengeance was already upon her.