and
ample means; a thoroughly unaffected and agreeable fellow into the
bargain, and quite handsome enough to win any woman's heart, the Captain
thought. He watched the two young people together, after the notion of
this thing came into his mind, and about the sentiments of one of them he
felt no shadow of doubt. He was not quite so clear about the feelings of
the other. There was a perfect frankness and ease about Marian that
seemed scarcely compatible with the growth of that tender passion which
generally reveals itself by a certain amount of reserve, and is more
eloquent in silence than in speech. Marian seemed always pleased to see
Gilbert, always interested in his society; but she did not seem more than
this, and the Captain was sorely perplexed.

There was a dinner-party at Lidford House during the second week of
Gilbert's acquaintance with these new friends, and Captain Sedgewick and
his adopted niece were invited.

"They are pleasant people to have at a dinner-party," Mrs. Lister said,
when she discussed the invitation with her husband and brother; "so I
suppose they may as well come,--though I don't want to encourage your
folly, Gilbert."

"My folly, as you are kind enough to call it, is not dependent on your
encouragement, Belle."

"Then it is really a serious case, I suppose," said Martin.

"I really admire Miss Nowell--more than I ever admired any one before, if
that is what you call a serious case, Martin."

"Rather like it, I think," the other answered with a laugh.

The dinner was a very quiet business--a couple of steady-going country
gentlemen, with their wives and daughters, a son or two more or less
dashing and sportsmanlike in style, the rector and his wife, Captain
Sedgewick and Miss Nowell. Gilbert had to take one of the portly matrons
in to dinner, and found himself placed at some distance from Miss Nowell
during the repast; but he was able to make up for this afterwards, when
he slipped out of the dining-room some time before the rest of the
gentlemen, and found Marian seated at the piano, playing a dreamy reverie
of Goria's, while the other ladies were gathered in a little knot,
discussing the last village scandal.

He went over to the piano and stood by her while she played, looking fondly
down at the graceful head, and the white hands gliding gently over the
keys. He did not disturb her by much talk: it was quite enough happiness
for him to stand there watching her as she played. Late