efore her, but
there was no stillness in her mind, neither was there stillness in his.
He did not look at the view, but at her, and he was asking himself what
he should be saying to her if he were such a man as Westholt. Though
he had boldness enough, he knew that no man--even though he is free to
speak the best and most passionate thoughts of his soul--could be sure
that he would gain what he desired. The good fortune of Westholt, or of
any other, could but give him one man's fair chance.

But having that chance, he knew he should not relinquish it soon. There
swept back into his mind the story of the marriage of his ancestor, Red
Godwyn, and he laughed low in spite of himself.

Miss Vanderpoel looked up at him quickly.

"Please tell me about it, if it is very amusing," she said.

"I wonder if it will amuse you," was his answer. "Do you like savage
romance?"

"Very much."

It might seem a propos de rien, but he did not care in the least. He
wanted to hear what she would say.

"An ancestor of mine--a certain Red Godwyn--was a barbarian immensely to
my taste. He became enamoured of rumours of the beauty of the daughter
and heiress of his bitterest enemy. In his day, when one wanted a thing,
one rode forth with axe and spear to fight for it."

"A simple and alluring method," commented Betty. "What was her name?"

She leaned in light ease against the stone back of her seat, the rose
light cast by her parasol faintly flushed her. The silence of their
retreat seemed accentuated by its background of music from the gardens.
They smiled a second bravely into each other's eyes, then their glances
became entangled, as they had done for a moment when they had stood
together in Mount Dunstan park. For one moment each had been held
prisoner then--now it was for longer.

"Alys of the Sea-Blue Eyes."

Betty tried to release herself, but could not.

"Sometimes the sea is grey," she said.

His own eyes were still in hers.

"Hers were the colour of the sea on a day when the sun shines on it,
and there are large fleece-white clouds floating in the blue above. They
sparkled and were often like bluebells under water."

"Bluebells under water sounds entrancing," said Betty.

He caught his breath slightly.

"They were--entrancing," he said. "That was evidently the devil of
it--saving your presence."

"I have never objected to the devil," said Betty. "He is an energetic,
hard-working creature and paints himself an honest