* *

Miss Campion had passed a long morning at the springs, wandering about
the pleasant grounds with an American friend. Crystal would have
finished her letter to Fern Trafford long ago, she thought, as she
walked quickly down the hot road, and would be waiting for luncheon.
She was not a little surprised then when, on reaching the cottage, she
heard the sound of voices, and found herself confronting a very tall
man in clerical dress, whose head seemed almost to touch the low
ceiling, while a sweet-looking woman, in a long gray cloak and
Quakerish bonnet, was standing holding Crystal's hand.

"Dear Miss Campion," exclaimed Crystal, with a vivid blush that seemed
to give her new beauty, "some English friends of mine have just
arrived. Mr. Ferrers and his sister." But Raby's deep voice
interrupted her.

"Crystal is not introducing us properly; she does not mention the fact
that she is engaged to me; and that my sister is her cousin; so it is
necessary for me to explain matters."

"Is this true, child?" asked Miss Campion in a startled voice; and, as
though Crystal's face were sufficient answer, she continued archly,
"Do you mean that this is 'he,' Crystal--the ideal we were talking
about last night in the moonlight?"

"Oh, hush!" returned Crystal, much confused at this, for she knew by
this time that there had been silent auditors to that girlish
outburst. But Raby's hand pressed hers meaningly.

"I am afraid I must plead guilty to being that 'he,' Miss Campion. I
believe, if the truth must be told, that Crystal has been engaged to
me from a child. I know she was only nine years old when she made me
an offer--at least she informed me in the presence of my father and
sister that she meant to belong to me."

"Oh, Margaret, do ask him to be quiet," whispered Crystal; but her
glowing, happy face showed no displeasure. Something like tears
glistened in Miss Campion's shrewd eyes as she kissed her and shook
hands with Mr. Ferrers.

"It is not often the ideal turns up at the right moment," she said,
bluntly; "but I am very glad you have come to make Crystal look like
other girls. Now, Miss Ferrers, as only lovers can feed on air, I
propose that we go in search of luncheon, for the gong has sounded
long ago;" and as even Raby allowed that this was sensible advice,
they all adjourned to the boarding-house.

The occupants of the piazza were sorely puzzled that evening, and Miss
Bellagrove was a trifle cross. Cap