e clanger of his seeing her. His head was held erect as he
poised straight and strong, the look of a man in his face.

"I hope," he replied, "to make the best use of any knowledge I may gain
that I possibly can. Every one should try to make the world better for
having lived in it. And it is the learning that comes through study and
books that one must have in order to rightly understand things. I
bethink me our country is going to need men of the right kind before
many years are past."

"The children of the poor cannot obtain the learning that comes through
books," said Rosamond; "prithee, how much must it be with them?"

Lionel replied, stoutly:

"The lad or the maid who is determined to learn, and have the right
place in the world, can find the way! The lad or the maid who pushes
through everything that would hinder, and _will get_ learning in spite
of difficulties, is the one to succeed and to be admired! We all must
push our way. I mean to push mine!"

He spoke fearlessly as there he stood, a fine lad in fine garments that
had been brought from across the sea; his fair, clinging hair had been
pushed back from his white forehead, for he would have none of the queue
worn by many very young men in those days. His waistcoat was daintily
ruffled down the front, and a fall of lace was about his hands. A
broad ring, with a clear white stone, glittered on one finger. His
knee-breeches were of the finest gray linen, with gray satin bows and
silver buckles at the knee bands. He wore, also, long gray stockings,
"clocked," or with wrought figures up the sides, and pumps of polished
leather with silver buckles in the rosettes.

The son of a gentleman, standing in the even-light, the fire of the
right kind of ambition, and a set purpose in voice and eye, the sunset
glow bringing out form and features like unto those of a young lord;
and--down in the hedge, a poor, tangled, ill-kept little maid, gazing
upon him even as she would have gazed upon a Prince in a Fairy story.

"Oh, he is a Prince!" gasped Sally. "He is like a Fairy Prince. He is
_my_ Fairy Prince!"

Then the poor child flushed and trembled. The idea of having dared to
think of young Lionel Grandison, son of Sir Percival and Lady Gabrielle
Grandison, as belonging in the leastest degree to her, made her tingle
with a kind of awe.

"Nobody knows it but just me," thought Sally, "and I _will_ have him for
my Fairy Prince. I can, way down in my heart-place; oh, I m