at the sea, the young Englishman again found himself, as they strolled
across the grass, in proximity to Mrs. Westgate's sister. Though she was
but a girl of twenty, she appeared to feel the obligation to exert an
active hospitality; and this was, perhaps, the more to be noticed as she
seemed by nature a reserved and retiring person, and had little of her
sister's fraternizing quality. She was perhaps rather too thin, and she
was a little pale; but as she moved slowly over the grass, with her arms
hanging at her sides, looking gravely for a moment at the sea and then
brightly, for all her gravity, at him, Lord Lambeth thought her at least
as pretty as Mrs. Westgate, and reflected that if this was the Boston
style the Boston style was very charming. He thought she looked very
clever; he could imagine that she was highly educated; but at the same
time she seemed gentle and graceful. For all her cleverness, however,
he felt that she had to think a little what to say; she didn't say the
first thing that came into her head; he had come from a different part
of the world and from a different society, and she was trying to adapt
her conversation. The others were scattering themselves near the rocks;
Mrs. Westgate had charge of Percy Beaumont.

"Very jolly place, isn't it?" said Lord Lambeth. "It's a very jolly
place to sit."

"Very charming," said the young girl. "I often sit here; there are all
kinds of cozy corners--as if they had been made on purpose."

"Ah! I suppose you have had some of them made," said the young man.

Miss Alden looked at him a moment. "Oh no, we have had nothing made.
It's pure nature."

"I should think you would have a few little benches--rustic seats and
that sort of thing. It might be so jolly to sit here, you know," Lord
Lambeth went on.

"I am afraid we haven't so many of those things as you," said the young
girl thoughtfully.

"I daresay you go in for pure nature, as you were saying. Nature over
here must be so grand, you know." And Lord Lambeth looked about him.

The little coast line hereabouts was very pretty, but it was not at all
grand, and Miss Alden appeared to rise to a perception of this fact.
"I am afraid it seems to you very rough," she said. "It's not like the
coast scenery in Kingsley's novels."

"Ah, the novels always overdo it, you know," Lord Lambeth rejoined. "You
must not go by the novels."

They were wandering about a little on the rocks, and they stopped and
looked