iously "boiled down," and ran something like
this:

"You are not displeased with me?"

"No--but I should be."

"Why?"

"It is wrong to deceive Aunt."

"I am quite respectable."

"That is not the question."

"Cannot her prejudices be overcome?"

"Absolutely no."

"Mrs. Allardyce, who is staying at the hotel, knows her well. Shall I
bring her over to vouch for my character?"

"It would not do a bit of good."

"Then it is hopeless."

"Yes."

"Would you object to knowing me on your own account?"

"No."

"Do you ever come to the shore alone?"

"No. Aunt would not permit me."

"Must she know?"

"Yes. I would not come without her permission."

"You will not refuse to chat with me thus now and then?"

"I don't know. Perhaps not."

I had to go home then. As we went Mrs. Saxby complimented me on my
good colour. Aunt Martha looked her disapproval. If I were really ill
Aunt would spend her last cent in my behalf, but she would be just as
well pleased to see me properly pale and subdued at all times, and not
looking as if I were too well contented in this vale of tears.

July Seventeenth.

I have "talked" a good deal with Mr. Shelmardine these past four days.
He is to be at the beach for some weeks longer. This morning he
signalled across from the rocks: "I mean to see you at last. Tomorrow
I will walk over and pass you."

"You must not. Aunt will suspect."

"No danger. Don't be alarmed. I will do nothing rash."

I suppose he will. He seems to be very determined. Of course, I cannot
prevent him from promenading on our beach all day if he chooses. But
then if he did, Aunt would speedily leave him in sole possession of
it.

I wonder what I had better wear tomorrow.

July Nineteenth.

Yesterday morning Aunt Martha was serene and unsuspicious. It is
dreadful of me to be deceiving her and I do feel guilty. I sat down on
the sand and pretended to read the "Memoirs of a Missionary"--Aunt
likes cheerful books like that--in an agony of anticipation. Presently
Aunt said, majestically: "Marguer_ite_, there is a man coming this
way. We will move further down."

And we moved. Poor Aunt!

Mr. Shelmardine came bravely on. I felt my heart beating to my very
finger tips. He halted by the fragment of an old stranded boat. Aunt
had turned her back on him.

I ventured on a look. He lifted his hat with a twin