saw him in a gayer mood. He's bent on
tormenting Loyd though, for he has just proposed
a row on the lake, and that he should take one
boat and Loyd the other, and have a race. He
well knows who'll win."

"That would be delightful, aunt. Let us have
it by all means. Mr. Calvert, I engage you.
You are to take me. Emily will go with Mr.
Loyd."

"And I'll stand at the point and be the
judge," said Miss Grainger.

Calvert never waited for more, but springing
up, hastened down to the shore to prepare the
boat. He was soon followed by Miss Grainger,
with Florence leaning on her arm, looking
brighter and fairer than he thought he had ever
seen her.

"Let us be off at once," whispered Calvert,
"for I'd like a few hundred yards' practice—a
sort of trial gallop—before I begin;" and, placing
the sick girl tenderly in the stern, he pulled
vigorously out into the lake." What a glorious
evening!" said he. "Is there anything in the
world can equal one of these sunsets on an Italian
lake, with all the tints of the high Alps blending
softly on the calm water?"

She made no answer; and he went on
enthusiastically about the scene, the hour, the
stillness, and the noble sublimity of the gigantic
mountains which arose around them.

Scarcely, however, had Calvert placed her in
the boat, and pulled out vigorously from the
shore, than he saw a marked change come over
the girl's face. All the laughing gaiety of a
moment back was gone, and an expression of
anxiety had taken its place.

"You are not ill?" asked he, eagerly.

"No. Why do you ask me?"

"I was afraid—I fancied you looked paler.
You seem changed."

"So I am," said she, seriously. "Answer me
what I shall ask, but tell me frankly."

"That I will; what is it?"

"You and Loyd have quarrelled— what was
it about?"

"What a notion! Do you imagine that the
silly quizzing that passes between young men
implies a quarrel?"

"No matter what I fancy; tell me as
candidly as you said you would. What was the
subject of your disagreement?"

"How peremptory you are," said he, laughing.
"Are you aware that to give your orders
in this fashion implies one of two things—a
strong interest in me, or in my adversary?"

"Well, I accept the charge; now for the
confession."

"Am I right, then, dearest Florence?" said he,
ceasing to row, and leaning down to look the
nearer at her. "Am I right, then, that your
claim to this knowledge is the best and most
indisputable?"

"Tell me what it is!" said she, and her pale
face suddenly glowed with a deep flush.

"You guessed aright, Florence, we did quarrel;
that is, we exchanged very angry words, though
it is not very easy to say how the difference
began, nor how far it went. I was dissatisfied
with him. I attributed to his influence, in some
shape or other, that I stood less well here—in
your esteem, I mean—than formerly; and he
somewhat cavalierly told me if there were a
change I owed it to myself, that I took airs
upon me, that I was haughty, presuming, and
fifty other things of the same sort; and so,
with an interchange of such courtesies, we grew
at last to feel very warm, and finally reached
that point where men—of the world, at least—
understand discussion ceases, and something
else succeeds."

"Well, go on," cried she, eagerly.

"All is told; there is no more to say. The
lawyer did not see the thing, perhaps, in the
same vulgar light that I did; he took his hat,
and came over here. I followed him, and there's
the whole of it."

"I think he was wrong to comment upon
your manner, if not done from a sense of friendship,
and led on to it by some admission on your part."

"Of course he was; and I am charmed to
hear you say so."

She was silent for some time, leaning her
head on her hand, and appearing deep in
thought.

"Now that I have made my confession, will
you let me have one of yours?" said he, in a
low, soft voice.

"I'm not sure; what's it to be about?"

"It's about myself I want to question you."

"About yourself! Surely you could not have
hit upon a sorrier adviser, or a less experienced
counsellor than I am."

"I don't want advice, Florence, I only want a
fact; and from all I have seen of you, I believe
you will deal fairly with me."

She nodded assent, and he went on:

"In a few weeks more I shall be obliged to
return to India; to a land I dislike, and a service
I detest; to live amongst companions distasteful
to me, and amidst habits and associations that,
however endurable when I knew no better, are
now become positively odious in my eyes. This
is my road to rank, station, and honour. There
is, however, another path; and if I relinquish
this career, and give up all thought of ambition,
I might remain in Europe—here, perhaps, on
this very lake side—and lead a life of humble but
unbroken happiness—one of those peaceful
existences which poets dream of, but never realise,
because it is no use in disparaging the cup of
life till one has tasted and known its bitterness;
and these men have not reached such experience
—I have."

He waited for her to speak—he looked eagerly
at her for a word—but she was silent.

"The confession I want from you, Florence,
is this: could you agree to share this life with
me?"

She shook her head and muttered, but what
he could not catch.

"It would be too dreary, too sad-coloured,
you think?"

"No," said she, "not that."