request, I told him I would introduce you to them to-night. But you
are tired, and I am afraid you will take cold in the evening air; so
we will postpone the ceremony until to-morrow."

"O, no," she replied, "I would prefer to go now. How their black faces
will shine when they see the glass beads and gay handkerchiefs I have
brought for them! Besides, I want to find out who that singer is. It's
strange you don't take more interest in such a voice as that, when
you are so full of music. Will you have the goodness to ring for my
shawl?"

With a decision almost peremptory in its tone, he said, "No; I had
rather you would _not_ go out." Seeing that his manner excited some
surprise, he patted her head and added: "Mind your husband now, that's
a good child. Amuse yourself at the piano while I go out."

She pouted a little, but finished by saying coaxingly, "Come back
soon, dear." She attempted to follow him far enough to look out on the
veranda, but he gently put her back, and, kissing his hand to her,
departed. She raised a corner of the curtain and peeped out to catch
the last glimpse of his figure. The moon was rising, and she could see
that he walked slowly, peering into spots of dense shadow or thickets
of shrubbery, as if looking for some one. But all was motionless and
still, save the sound of a banjo from the group of servants. "How I
wish I could hear that voice again!" she thought to herself. "It's
very singular Gerald should appear so indifferent to it. What can be
the meaning of it?"

She pondered for a few minutes, and then she tried to play; but not
finding it entertaining without an auditor, she soon rose, and,