Alas! Alas! Strange decree of fate. Between this pair, who had never even spoken to each other, only looked into each other’s eyes, love had been born full-grown, though each tried to thrust it away--she, believing it was hopeless; he, because he had been told by a false schemer that she was as silly as she was fair. “I am sorry now that I sent her the poem. I hope she will never find me out, and gratify her vanity by telling her girl friends about it. When girls are very silly they always boast of their conquests,” thought the young man; and it vexed him sorely that so fair a face should go with a shallow mind--vexed him, too, that her beauty should haunt him so, not dreaming yet that its spell was immortal. He thought that he must go away, and presently forgetfulness would come. He ought to go away, anyhow, for Royall Sherwood did not seem as friendly as of old--had grown careless and neglectful; and, as for Mrs. Fleming, she was too kind, that was all; and he was afraid that she might assume the supposed prerogative of the new woman, to woo and win. In a very gray mood, he excused himself from her company one day, saying that he had an engagement to ride with a fellow. The fellow was himself; but he deemed any subterfuge permissible, since she had made him read poetry to her till he was hoarse as a raven, and he was wild to escape. So he went to the livery stable, secured a light buggy, and set off for a solitary ride along the beach. “The only chance a fellow can get to think, with so many women about, always chattering like magpies!” he muttered to himself, as he was returning at a slow pace along the level sands, and watching the setting sun as it spread long lances of rosy light across the restless waves. He had quite decided that he would leave Sea View to-morrow, and return to New York. There would be no trouble in getting away from Royall Sherwood, who seemed already weary of him, and if the little widow got hysterical he could say he had important letters calling him away. If he had not been so absorbed in half-sad thoughts, and secondarily interested in the sunset on the sea, he would not have forgotten what a timid animal he was driving, and that it was unsafe to leave the reins lying so slack on his back. The beach was deserted, he thought, although only this morning it had been alive with gay bathers and fearless bicyclists. So, unthinking of danger, he drove on, and the voice of the sea, so solemn and profound, blending with his pensive thoughts, drowned the voices of two fair young girls wheeling toward him on their bicycles, one dark and sparkling, the other very fair and lovely.