room for doubt, and as
though George Leicester had seen and recognised the charming girlish
figure standing there on the beach (as possibly he had through his
powerful marine glass), a white fluttering object gleamed out over the
rail and, soaring aloft, streamed from the main-truck, a burgee with the
name _Industry_ worked upon it in red letters. At the sight of this
Lucy rapidly closed her little telescope and returned it to her pocket
with a bright flush and a conscious, happy little laugh.

"Dear George," she murmured; "how glad I am that he is back all safe;
and how fervently I hope that he did not see me watching the schooner.
I wonder whether he will walk over this evening."

She then, uncomfortably conscious of the possibility that "dear George"
might at that very moment have her accurately focussed in the field of
his glass, sauntered along the beach with as much of an air of total
abstraction as she could conveniently assume on the spur of the moment,
and finally, after watching the schooner pass safely into Portsmouth
Harbour and there come to an anchor, returned home.

She found her mother suffering from a more than ordinarily severe attack
of "the miserables," as that lady was wont to term her low spirits. It
was one of Mrs Walford's peculiarities to be depressed in spirits in
exact proportion to the brightness and exhilarating character of the
weather--but Lucy was completely proof against it all just now; the
sight she had so lately looked upon had sent a soft, dainty flush into
her cheeks, a light into her eyes, and a song to her lips, which her
mother's "miserables" were wholly powerless to drive away, and she went
about the house filling it with the melody of her low, sweet voice.

Tea was over; Mrs Walford was made comfortable in her wide arm-chair,
with a huge volume of sermons in her lap; and Lucy was trying to settle
down with composure to the execution of some trifle in the way of
needle-work, when the sharp click of the gate-latch was heard; there was
a crunching of feet upon the gravel walk, the front door was
unceremoniously opened, and Lieutenant Edward Walford walked in.

"How _do_, aunt? Lucy, fair coz, I hope I see you in a state of perfect
salubrity?" was his nonchalant greeting.

Mrs Walford replied that "she was as well as could be expected,"--she
did not say under what adverse circumstances--and Lucy requested him not
to make himself ridiculous. It was too bad, she decided; he