genial grasp. Lightly he passed
over the wooden bridge, preceded by Max, and merrily, when he had gained
the other side of the bridge, came upon Kenelm's ear, through the hush
of the luminous night, the verse of the uncompleted love-song,--

"Singing, singing,
Lustily singing,
Down the road, with his dogs before,
Came the Ritter of Nierestein."

Love-song, uncompleted; why uncompleted? It was not given to Kenelm to
divine the why. It was a love-song versifying one of the prettiest fairy
tales in the world, which was a great favourite with Lily, and which
Lion had promised Lily to versify, but only to complete it in her
presence and to her perfect satisfaction.

CHAPTER VII.

IF I could not venture to place upon paper the exact words of an
eloquent coveter of fame, the earth-born, still less can I dare to place
upon paper all that passed through the voiceless heart of a coveter of
love, the heaven-born.

From the hour in which Kenelm Chillingly had parted from Walter Melville
until somewhere between sunrise and noon the next day, the summer
joyousness of that external Nature which does now and then, though, for
the most part, deceitfully, address to the soul of man questions and
answers all her soulless own, laughed away the gloom of his misgivings.

No doubt this Walter Melville was the beloved guardian of Lily; no doubt
it was Lily whom he designated as reserved and reared to become his
bride. But on that question Lily herself had the sovereign voice. It
remained yet to be seen whether Kenelm had deceived himself in the
belief that had made the world so beautiful to him since the hour of
their last parting. At all events it was due to her, due even to his
rival, to assert his own claim to her choice. And the more he recalled
all that Lily had ever said to him of her guardian, so openly, so
frankly, proclaiming affection, admiration, gratitude, the more
convincingly his reasonings allayed his fears, whispering, "So might
a child speak of a parent: not so does the maiden speak of the man she
loves; she can scarcely trust herself to praise."

In fine, it was not in despondent mood, nor with dejected looks, that,
a little before noon, Kenelm crossed the bridge and re-entered the
enchanted land of Grasmere. In answer to his inquiries, the servant who
opened the door said that neither Mr. Melville nor Miss Mordaunt were
at home; they had but just gone out together for a walk. He was about to