And it bore the answer to Dan's question which Sylvia had carried long in her heart, but could not speak.

She did not speak it then; it was ordained that she should never speak it.

And Dan knew and understood.
"Who is Sylvia, what is she, That all the swains adore her ?" "_Who is Sylvia_ ?" Dan knew in that hour the answer of tears! The song ceased.

When Dan saw Sylvia's head lift, he silently took the paddle and impelled the canoe toward the red, white, and blue lanterns that defined Mrs.Owen's landing.

They were within a hundred yards of the intervening green light of the Bassett dock when a brilliant meteor darted across the zenith, and Dan's exclamation broke the tension.
Their eyes turned toward the heavens--Sylvia's still bright with tears, Dan knew, though he could not see her face.
"Poor lost star!" she murmured softly.
Dan was turning the canoe slightly to avoid the jutting shore that made a miniature harbor at the Bassett's when Sylvia uttered a low warning.
Dan, instantly alert, gripped his paddle and waited.