ontemplation of the water, so as to give the young man
the liberty of his profile.

He did not look up until they were quite close to him, and when he did
he saw a pleasant, slightly freckled fair face a little agitated, and
very honest blue eyes. "I hope you don't think, Sir, that it's bad form
of me to ask Eleanor to come up and see me as I've done. I telegraphed
to her on an impulse, and it's been very kind of her to come up to me."

"Sit down," said Scrope, "sit down. You're Mr. Riverton?"

"Yes, Sir," said the young man. He had the frequent "Sir" of the
subaltern. Scrope was in the centre of the seat, and the young officer
sat down on one side of him while Eleanor took up a watching position on
her father's other hand. "You see, Sir, we've hardly known each other--I
mean we've been associated over a philosophical society and all that
sort of thing, but in a more familiar way, I mean...."

He hung for a moment, just a little short of breath. Scrope helped
him with a grave but sympathetic movement of the head. "It's a little
difficult to explain," the young man apologized.

"We hadn't understood, I think, either of us very much. We'd just
been friendly--and liked each other. And so it went on even when I was
training. And then when I found I had to go out--I'm going out a little
earlier than I expected--I thought suddenly I wouldn't ever go to
Cambridge again at all perhaps--and there was something in one of her
letters.... I thought of it a lot, Sir, I thought it all over, and I
thought it wasn't right for me to do anything and I didn't do anything
until this morning. And then I sort of had to telegraph. I know it was
frightful cheek and bad form and all that, Sir. It is. It would be
worse if she wasn't different--I mean, Sir, if she was just an ordinary
girl.... But I had a sort of feeling--just wanting to see her. I don't
suppose you've ever felt anything, Sir, as I felt I wanted to see
her--and just hear her speak to me...."

He glanced across Scrope at Eleanor. It was as if he justified himself
to them both.

Scrope glanced furtively at his daughter who was leaning forward with
tender eyes on her lover, and his heart went out to her. But his manner
remained judicial.

"All this is very sudden," he said.

"Or you would have heard all about it, Sir," said young Riverton.
"It's just the hurry that has made this seem furtive. All that there is
between us, Sir, is just the two telegrams we've sent, hers and