suppled by athletic
sports, had a dignity, and his irregular features a beauty, that pleased
her better than dainty, high-bred elegance. He had to push his way over
the obstacles of poverty and obscure birth, and she was a young lady of
family and fortune, but she looked up to him with as meek a humility as
ever she had done when they were friends and comrades together, before
her vicissitudes began and her exalted kinsfolk reclaimed her. Woldshire
had not acquainted her with his equal. All the world never would.

Their conversation was opened at last with a surprised smile at finding
themselves where they were--in the bare sitting-room at Brook, with the
western light shining on them through the vine-trellised lattices after
four years of growth and experience. How often had Bessie made a
picture in her day-dreams of their next meeting here since she went
away! In this hour, in this instant, love was new-born in both their
hearts. They saw it, each in the other's eyes--heard it, each in the
other's voice. Tears came with Bessie's sudden smile. She trembled and
sighed and laughed, and said she did not know why she was so foolish.
Harry was foolish too as he made her some indistinct plea about being so
glad. And a red spot burned on his own cheek as he dwelt on her
loveliness. Once more they were silent, then both at once began to talk
of people and things indifferent, coming gradually round to what
concerned themselves.

Harry Musgrave spoke of his friend Christie and his profession
relatively to his own: "Christie has distinguished himself already.
There are houses in London where the hostess has a pride in bringing
forward young talent. Christie got the _entree_ of one of the best at
the beginning of his career, and is quite a favorite. His gentleness is
better than conventional polish, but he has taken that well too. He is a
generous little fellow, and deserves the good luck that has befallen
him. His honors are budding betimes. That is the joy of an artistic
life--you work, but it is amongst flowers. Christie will be famous
before he is thirty, and he is easy in his circumstances now: he will
never be more, never rich; he is too open-handed for that. But I shall
have years and years to toil and wait," Harry concluded with a
melancholy, humorous fall in his voice, half mocking at himself and half
pathetic, and the same was his countenance.

All the more earnestly did Bessie brighten: "You knew that, Harry, when
y