disrelish to the task, she was suddenly overcome with laughter. Julia's
laugh was a thing to ravish lovers; she rolled her mirthful descant with
the freedom and the melody of a blackbird's song upon the river, and
repeated by the echoes of the farther bank. It seemed a thing in its own
place and a sound native to the open air. There was only one creature
who heard it without joy, and that was her unfortunate admirer.

'Miss Hazeltine,' he said, in a voice that tottered with annoyance, 'I
speak as your sincere well-wisher, but this can only be called levity.'

Julia made great eyes at him.

'I can't withdraw the word,' he said: 'already the freedom with which I
heard you hobnobbing with a boatman gave me exquisite pain. Then there
was a want of reserve about Jimson--'

'But Jimson appears to be yourself,' objected Julia.

'I am far from denying that,' cried the barrister, 'but you did not
know it at the time. What could Jimson be to you? Who was Jimson? Miss
Hazeltine, it cut me to the heart.'

'Really this seems to me to be very silly,' returned Julia, with severe
decision. 'You have behaved in the most extraordinary manner; you
pretend you are able to explain your conduct, and instead of doing so
you begin to attack me.'

'I am well aware of that,' replied Gideon. 'I--I will make a clean
breast of it. When you know all the circumstances you will be able to
excuse me.

And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured forth his miserable
history.

'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried, when he had done, 'I am--so--sorry! wish
I hadn't laughed at you--only you know you really were so exceedingly
funny. But I wish I hadn't, and I wouldn't either if I had only known.'
And she gave him her hand.

Gideon kept it in his own. 'You do not think the worse of me for this?'
he asked tenderly.

'Because you have been so silly and got into such dreadful trouble? you
poor boy, no!' cried Julia; and, in the warmth of the moment, reached
him her other hand; 'you may count on me,' she added.

'Really?' said Gideon.

'Really and really!' replied the girl.

'I do then, and I will,' cried the young man. 'I admit the moment is not
well chosen; but I have no friends--to speak of.'

'No more have I,' said Julia. 'But don't you think it's perhaps time you
gave me back my hands?'

'La ci darem la mano,' said the barrister, 'the merest moment more! I
have so few friends,' he added.

'I thought it was considered such a bad account of