"If you had lived, you would have lured my heart from me."
Only time could prove whether it was for better or worse that he had lived, and that they had looked and loved.
"I must go to him!" she cried suddenly, sweeping all irresolution aside.
She gathered a lily from the marble basin of the fountain, fastened it in the bosom of her white gown, and turned toward the house. Coming into the graveled walk at the foot of the steps, Nita almost ran into the arms of a tall, middle-aged man, who lifted his hat with easy grace, exclaiming:
"Beg pardon, Miss—Miss——"
"Farnham," the young girl said quietly, and stood waiting.
He bowed deeply, and resumed in his easy courteous manner:
"My name is Donald Kayne, Miss Farnham, and I am in search of a missing friend of mine, Dorian Mountcastle. I set him ashore on this beach about two weeks ago, and on returning only yesterday from our little yachting excursion, I heard that he had not returned to New York, nor even been heard of there. I became uneasy and came down to-day to hunt him up, although now"—with an admiring glance—"his exile is no longer a mystery to me. I learned at the hotel of my friend's accident, and that he was your guest. I hastened without ceremony to call on him."
"You are most welcome," she answered, in a low, musical voice.
"Thank you; and is he better?"