He threw aside his usual air of hauteur, and showed himself brilliant, witty, and interesting, keeping through it all a dangerous softness of manner, an empressement that would have made the most finished coquette believe that he was about to throw himself at her feet and declare his love. Italy was no coquette, however, and was not well versed in the signs of love, so she could by no means read her companion’s mood. But she thought him kind, very kind, and she had a struggling consciousness that she had done wrong in coming. Yet she could not resist the charm of his manner. It inspired in her an irresistible joyousness. She, too, threw off the diffident manner that had dominated her in his presence until now, and replied to him freely and vivaciously. Her soft laugh, as it echoed over the rippling waves sounded to him like sweetest music. Time flew fast, and suddenly he observed that the boat was going slower and slower, and the wind dying away. “I could stay out here on this beautiful sea for hours with you, Italy, but yet I think we must be going back, or we shall have no wind,” he exclaimed, and turned about to return. Slowly, more slowly than they knew, absorbed in their own thoughts, the dory moved through the small, crisp wavelets. The wind that had fanned their faces so joyously a little while ago lulled and stopped, the sail drooped dismally, they came to a dead pause out there in the open sea under the starry sky. “Do not be frightened, Italy,” he said to her anxiously. “We are becalmed and must wait till the wind rises before we can get back to shore.” Her face grew pale, and she asked: “How long?” “I cannot tell you, but I hope not long. The wind will be almost sure to rise at midnight, if not before, but it is more than an hour off yet. Can you be patient, and wait, or will you scold me for bringing you into such a predicament?” “Is there any danger?” she asked, in a subdued tone. “None, unless a heavy fog comes up. But it is very clear now. We are not more than two miles from shore. See, there is Great Head in the distance and the lights of Winthrop. You need not be alarmed. It is only a vexatious delay, and I will try to amuse you so that the time will go fast.” “Thank you,” she said very low, and both were quite silent for a few moments. Italy was looking down at the rippling waves with a solemn face. “Are you frightened, or are you angry?” her companion asked gently. “I am neither,” she answered. “But I am suddenly sad. There came into my mind this moment a picture of my mother.” “Your mother was a most unhappy woman,” he said half-inquiringly. “Oh, Heaven, how unhappy!” sighed the girl; some impulse of confidence seized her, and while they waited there becalmed on the wide ocean, seemingly alone in the world, she told him something of the lonely life she had led, hounded through the world by a foe in ambush. “Oh, Mr. Murray, tell me if you have any suspicion who that enemy could be?” she cried imploringly.