the fancy of a man whose canoe came shooting down
the river at this moment, like an arrow from a bow. He slackened pace as
he came near the Rectory garden, and peered through the tangled branches
which surrounded the old black boat-house, to catch another glimpse of
Lettice. He wondered that she did not notice him: his red and white
blazer and jaunty cap made him a somewhat conspicuous object in this
quiet country place; and she must have heard the long strokes of his
oars. But she remained silent, apparently examining the fastenings of
the boat; absorbed and tranquil, with a happy smile upon her lips.

"Good afternoon, Miss Campion: can I help you there in any way?" he
shouted at last, letting his boat slide past the boat-house entrance,
and then bringing it round to the little flight of grassy steps cut in
the bank from the lawn to the river.

"Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Dalton. Thank you, no; I don't want any help,"
said Lettice; but the young man had already set foot upon the lawn and
was advancing towards her. He was the nephew and heir of the childless
Squire at Angleford Manor, and he occasionally spent a few weeks with
his uncle in the country. Old Mr. Dalton was not fond of Angleford,
however, and the Campions did not see much of him and his nephew.

Brooke Dalton was six-and-twenty, a manly, well-looking young fellow,
with fair hair and bright blue eyes. He was not very tall, and had
already begun to develop a tendency towards stoutness, which gave him
considerable trouble in after years. At present he kept it down by heavy
doses of physical exercise, so that it amounted only to a little unusual
fullness of body and the suspicion of a double chin. His enemies called
him fat. His friends declared that his sunshiny look of prosperity and
good-humor was worth any amount of beauty, and that it would be a
positive loss to the world if he were even a trifle thinner. And Brooke
Dalton was a man of many friends.

Lettice greeted him with a smile. "So you are here again," she said.

"Yes, I've been here a day or two. Have you heard from Sydney yet?"

"No, and we are dreadfully anxious. But papa says we shall hear very
soon now."

"I don't suppose you need have the slightest anxiety. Sydney is sure to
do well: he was always a clever fellow."

"Yes, but he has had no teaching except from papa: and papa torments
himself with the idea that there may be better teachers than himself at
Cambridge--which I am sure there