He thanked her fervently, and then she continued: “I am so glad to have a single true friend--one who knows the past, one who might help me.” “Tell me what I can do for you. I am ready and willing”--eagerly. The surf beat loud and sharply on the beach, the wind rose and whistled around the corners of the house and through the stately fir-trees with a soughing murmur. If she had listened to them, they would have sounded eerily, warningly, in her ears, but she heard only that low-toned, persuasive voice, saw only the dazzling dark eyes bent with an intense gaze upon her own, inviting her confidence. She looked up at him with big, solemn eyes. “I will confide in you,” she said impetuously. “I will tell you the dream, the aim, the purpose of my life. It is to clear the memory of my mother from the stain that rests upon it, to find and to punish my father’s murderer.” The girl’s low voice was tragic in its intensity. No wonder it impressed him, no wonder he suddenly grew ghastly pale and grave. “You are mad!” he uttered hoarsely. “No, no; do not say it,” she breathed imploringly. “Listen--my mother was innocent--she swore it to me before she--before I lost her. She believed that the clue to the murderer would be found in some of the secrets of my father’s diary. You remember how eagerly she sought for the diary after his terrible death? Well, it was never, never found, you know, and she believed that it was carried off or destroyed by the murderer. Oh, I would give the world to find that missing book! Help me to seek it, help me to find it, my friend!” cried Italy, in rising agitation. Emmett Harlow came up to them before Percy Seabright could reply to her words. “Miss Vale, we are going to start now. Are you ready?” he asked. Something of surprise in the clear blue eyes of the young man struck Italy with sudden embarrassment, and she rose quickly. “Yes; I am quite ready,” she said, and moved away by his side, to join the house-party who were waiting. Mr. Murray with Alys Audenreid, Ralph Allen with his sweetheart, Alexie, and Mrs. Dunn alone, expecting to have Percy Seabright for her escort. As Italy came up with Emmett she flashed a look of furious anger at the girl from her peculiar eyes that could change rapidly from the soft blue of love to the greenish fires of jealousy and hate. Italy started as she met that baleful look. She remembered suddenly what Emmett Harlow had once told her about Mrs. Dunn’s love for Percy Seabright. A cold chill of terror crept along the girl’s veins. She knew that Mrs. Dunn was a woman to be feared, and she comprehended that the compact of friendship just made between herself and Mrs. Dunn’s lover would expose her to the former’s jealous wrath. When the party were all upon the yacht and she was floating in graceful majesty upon the blue waves, Emmett Harlow found a seat for himself and Italy a little apart from the rest. Then looking tenderly into her serious face, he said: