“Cook will not tell of you, I hope. Will she?” asked Mr. Delaney, coolly peeling a peach with his white, aristocratic hand, on which a magnificent diamond glowed with iridescent fire. “Have this peach, Miss--Miss--do you know I haven’t found out your name yet?” “It is Aline--Aline Rodney. I thought you would know that much, as we are neighbors,” she said; then returning to her grievance, she added: “Cook will certainty betray me. You should have sent me home sooner. Why didn’t you?” “That would have been discourteous,” said Oran Delaney, with his winning smile; “and, besides, Miss Rodney, I forgot you. Will you pardon me for it? I was smoking and dreaming, you see, and you escaped my mind for the moment.” “‘Out of sight, out of mind,’” said Aline, quoting the old adage with perfect good humor. “Well, it was just the same with me. I thought of nothing but the flowers until you came up suddenly behind me. But I must go home now and see if I am found out. Ah, dear me, I am into another scrape, and, indeed, indeed, I never dreamed of it when I came down into the garden. I shall have to go down on my knees to cook, and beg her to keep it silent about the ladder and the book.” “Since you feel so sure that you are found out, there can surely be no need to haste to return to your prison,” said Oran Delaney, toying with a purple, bloomy bunch of grapes. “An hour more or less cannot matter materially, I suppose, in the extent of cook’s wrath?” “N--no, I suppose not,” said Aline, paltering with temptation weakly. “And I do hate to go back to that lonely room just yet. But, perhaps,” gazing at him, anxiously, “perhaps you would like for me to go. Perhaps you are weary of me.” A sudden sigh, deep, subtle, profound, breathed over his lips. He looked at her strangely. “I am weary of everything,” he said, abruptly. “But if it pleases you to stay, child, pray do so. It will be no annoyance to me.” From being terribly afraid of him at first, Aline had become quite trusting and confidential. She looked at him with a smile. “Thank you for your kind permission,” she said. “I will not go just yet. There are some things I should like to find out before I go home.” “You are very frank.” “Do you think so?” asked his unconventional guest. “And will you answer truly what I am about to ask you?” “_Cela depends_,” he replied, with a slight frown. “That means that you anticipate impertinent questions from me!” she laughed, easily. “But do you know, Mr. Delaney, that you have long been an object of curiosity to me?” “You flatter me,” said Oran Delaney, lightly. “I don’t know whether the curiosity is flattering or not,” said frank Aline. “The greater part of my curiosity is over this great, gloomy-looking house of yours. Is it really haunted, as they say?” “It is haunted by my presence--nothing more ghostly than that,” he replied, laconically. Aline looked as if she did not quite believe him, but she went on, perseveringly: