'By all means,' replied Waring. 'Anything in the way of mermaidens?'

'Mermaidens dwell in the water, they cannot live in houses as we can;
did you not know that? I have seen them on moonlight nights, and so
has Lorez; but Aunt Shadow never saw them.'

'Another member of the family,--Aunt Shadow?'

'Yes,' replied Silver; 'but she is not here now. She went away one
night when I was asleep. I do not know why it is,' she added sadly,
'but if people go away from here in the night they never come back.
Will it be so with you, Jarvis?'

'No; for I will take you with me,' replied the young man lightly.

'Very well; and father will go too, and Lorez,' said Silver.

To this addition, Waring, like many another man in similar
circumstances, made no reply. But Silver did not notice the omission.
She had opened a door, and behold, they stood together in a bower of
greenery and blossom, flowers growing everywhere,--on the floor, up
the walls, across the ceiling, in pots, in boxes, in baskets, on
shelves, in cups, in shells, climbing, crowding each other, swinging,
hanging, winding around everything,--a riot of beauty with perfumes
for a language. Two white gulls stood in the open window and gravely
surveyed the stranger.

'They stay with me almost all the time,' said the water-maiden; 'every
morning they fly out to sea for a while, but they always come back.'