btuse male intellect weeks to comprehend. She saw the
young man's slight embarrassment and the touch of pride mingling with
it; she noticed the spareness of outline and the varying colour which
suggested recent illness, or delicacy of health; above all, she observed
the expression of his face, high, noble, refined, as it had always been,
but darkened by some inexplicable shadow from the past, some trace of
sorrow which could never be altogether swept away. Seeing all these
things, she knew instinctively that the calmest and quietest way of
speaking would suit him best, and she felt that she was right when he
answered, in rather low and shaken tones--

"Pardon me. It is for Mr. Heron to decide; not for me."

"I think my uncle has decided," said Elizabeth. "He asked me to
ascertain when you would be willing to give the boys their first
lesson."

"He said that, now? Since he saw me?" cried Stretton, as if in
uncontrollable surprise.

Elizabeth's lips straightened themselves for a moment. Then she turned
her face towards the young man, with the look of mingled dignity and
candour which had already impressed him so deeply, and said, gently--

"Is there anything to be surprised at in that?"

"Yes," said Stretton, hanging his head, and absently pulling forward a
long spray of clematis which grew beside him. "It is a very surprising
thing to me that Mr. Heron should take me on trust--a man without
recommendation, or influence, or friends." He plucked the spray as he
spoke, and played restlessly with the leaves. Elizabeth watched his
fingers; she saw that the movement was intended to disguise the fact
that they were trembling. "As it is," he went on, "even though your
father--I beg pardon, your uncle--admits me to this house, I doubt
whether I do well to come. I think it would be better in many ways that
I should decline this situation."

He let the leaves fall from his hand and rose to his feet. "Will you
tell Mr. Heron what I say?" he asked, in an agitated voice. "Tell him I
will not take advantage of his kindness. I will go on to Naples--this
afternoon."

Elizabeth was puzzled. This was a specimen of humanity the like of which
she had never met before. It interested her; though she hardly wished to
interfere in the affairs of a man who was so much of a riddle to her.
That he was a stranger and that he was young--not much older than
herself, very probably--were facts that did not enter her mind with any
deterrent for