"Frightened," she repeated, a little vaguely, and nestling unconsciously nearer to the warm, strong arm that held her. "Yes, you have been missing several hours, and we have all had a great fright about you. Clarice searched for you several hours, but I had the happiness of finding you," he said, gently. "And--nothing has happened? You are not angry?" she asked, the mists beginning to clear from her brain. "Nothing has happened, except that a gentleman came to see you and went away disappointed. I am not angry, yet I ought to be, seeing what a fright you gave me. Only think of me, Miss Gordon, rushing about the garden with my mind full of 'dire imaginings,' and finding you asleep on the grass like a tired baby. What a descent from the sublime to the ridiculous!" She began to comprehend all and drew herself, with a blush, from the arm that still held her gently. "Pardon me. You were half asleep and I held you to keep you from falling," he said, with cool dignity. "Shall we return to the house now? My mother is in great suspense." "I am very sorry," she began, penitently, as she moved on quietly by his side. "I did not mean to frighten any one. You--you were very kind to come and look for me." In her heart she was secretly singing pæans of gladness. She was not discovered yet. Her clever move that evening had thrown her enemy off his guard. Trying to keep the tremor out of her voice, she asked with apparent carelessness: "Who was my visitor, Mr. Le Roy?" "Whom do you imagine?" he responded. "Was--was it Mr. Wentworth?" she inquired, with artless innocence and something in her voice that he interpreted as hope and longing. "Do you suppose that Mr. Wentworth would be admitted inside the doors of Eden?" he inquired, with grim anger. "Why not?" said she, timidly. "You must know that we have our instructions from your mother," he answered, stiffly. Laurel decided that it would be in keeping with her character of Beatrix Gordon to argue the point a little with Mr. Le Roy. "Do you not think that mamma is a little harsh, Mr. Le Roy?" she ventured, timidly. "Mr. Wentworth is good and noble and handsome. His only fault is that he is poor." "Therefore, he is no mate for you," St. Leon answered, almost savagely. "But why?" she persisted, longing to hear his opinion on the subject. "You are almost too young to understand these questions, Miss Gordon, but it ought to be perfectly obvious to you that the wealthy well-born daughter of Mr. Gordon should not descend to a simple clerk without connections, without money, and without prospects," he answered, almost brusquely. "Must one take no account of love?" she asked, timidly. "Unequal marriages seldom result happily, Miss Gordon," he said, his voice full of underlying bitterness. "You would have the rich to always wed the rich then?" she said, smothering a long, deep, bitter sigh as she awaited his answer.