"Imagine Isabelle inconspicuous," laughed Mrs. Darlington again.

Isabelle decided that she hated her!

"But it's different out here--it's not a ball room, ye know. It's just dancin' round," said the Irishman.

"Yes, that's true. Oh, I think it would be all right," agreed Miss Watts, unable to deny him the moon, if he asked for it.

"The next then, Miss Bryce?"

"Thank you," she said.

He went away with his partner, who was decidedly bored with the conversation.

"Surly little thing," she remarked, audibly.

"She is certainly a beautiful woman," Miss Watts remarked, looking after them.

"Beautiful? Oh, yes, if you like a vamp."

"A what?"

"Vampire; you see them in movies."

"Isabelle!" protested the older woman.

They strolled about, drank in the rich tropical perfume of the night, and looked off to where the sea lay--huge, mysterious, and musical--lipping the beach. There was a moon and the stars hung low and yellow in a deep blue velvet sky.

The band swung into a waltz, and the dancers began to revolve.

Isabelle's heart beat an extra tap or two. She saw Captain O'Leary's closely cropped head in the distance. He caught sight of her, and hurried toward them with that swinging, marching gait of his. He bowed and offered his arm. Isabelle took it in silence and they went to the dancing floor.

She looked like a little girl in her straight white gown, and the top of her head came well below his shoulder. They glided off without a word.

The Captain was an accomplished dancer, also he danced because he loved it. In the same way it was speech to Isabelle; it expressed her, it was a natural gift. They were like one person, moved by one will. Encore followed encore. Only once was a word exchanged between them; and then, as they waited for the music to begin again, she lifted shining eyes to his, and he leaned toward her quickly:

"Ye little moonbeam!" he said, softly.

Then they went on again. Time and s.p.a.ce were not, for Isabelle. She was a part of elemental Nature--a part of sea and sky and deep bosomed tropical night. Even as Larry O'Leary had said, she was a child of the lady moon, a beam of her silver light.

When, finally, it was over, they found Miss Watts waiting for them, a few steps away.

"Here I am," she said, in her usual voice, as if the whole world had not changed its face. "You had a nice long dance, didn't you?"

"Wonderful!" said the Irishman, in a voice that thrilled. "Now we're getting acquainted," he added, bending down to Isabelle. "I thank you, Miss Moonbeam," he whispered.

Isabelle smiled at him. She had not said one word since he led her forth. She felt a little dizzy with everything. Speech was unnecessary.

He left them, then, and Miss Watts smiled at her.

"Did you enjoy it, Isabelle?" she asked pleasantly.

"No!" flashed the girl, unexpectedly. "I am going to bed."

"That's sensible. We will enjoy our sleep to-night in a real bed."

But Isabelle was not thinking of sleep!

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The next morning floated in upon Isabelle's senses, warm and fragrant.

She felt that this was to be one of the most important days of her life.

She loved and she was loved at last! It never entered her head that there could be any doubt of Captain O'Leary's feelings for her. He had called her, tenderly, "little moonbeam," and in one long rapturous dance it had come to them that the meaning of life was love.

She dressed in a daze of happiness, in the knowledge that presently she was to see him again. How would they meet? Where? What would the odious Darlington woman say when she knew that "the surly little thing" had captured her captain?

She took great pains with her toilet, stared at herself long in the gla.s.s. She wished she were beautiful, like Mrs. Darlington, or Max. He deserved the most radiant creature in the world! How could he care for a plain mite like herself? _Did_ he?

In a sudden collapse into deep depression she sought Miss Watts and hurried her downstairs. No signs of him in the breakfast room. Later she led Miss Watts up and down every veranda, but a complete survey of the grounds brought no results.

"We ought not to exercise so violently right after breakfast, Isabelle.

Let us sit down in the shade for a little."

Isabelle agreed; it did not matter to her what they did just now, and these seats gave a view of every one who came out of the hotel.

"What shall we do to-day?" inquired Miss Watts.

"Oh--I don't know"--indifferently.

Some people were coming out now. A tall woman, a girl, and a boy. The girl stared at Isabelle and then advanced.

"Aren't you Isabelle Bryce?" she asked.

"Why, Agnes Pollock!" exclaimed Isabelle.

Introductions and explanations followed. The girls had known each other at Hill Top School. Agnes was convalescing from an appendicitis operation. She was with her mother and her brother, who greeted Isabelle cordially.

"Heard a lot about you!" said Percy Pollock, who was a beautiful blond person, slightly older than the girls. "You were the terror at Hill Top, weren't you?"

"I didn't have much chance. I was only there one year," laughed Isabelle.

"I hope you'll wake up this dull isle," said he.

"Dull?" cried Isabelle, blushing furiously at her tone.

They all sat down together, in the aimless way of holiday makers, but Isabelle's eyes were ever on the door. Where was the man? Did he lie abed all morning? And such a morning!

"Isabelle, let's go for a walk down the beach. I've such heaps to tell you about Hill Top."