hwaite has sent these on in the schooner unknown to me! What
shall I do with them all?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Rhys. "It is the penalty that attaches to
wealth."

"But you said you never were poor?" said Eleanor, laughing at his look.

"I never was, in feeling. I never was in an embarrassment of riches,
either. I can't help you!"

"But these are yours, Rowland. What are you talking of?"

"Are you going to make me a present of the whole?" said Mr. Rhys,
stooping down for a grape.

"No, Mr. Esthwaite has done that. The embarrassment is yours."

"I am in no embarrassment; you are mistaken. By what right do you say
that Mr. Esthwaite has sent these to me?"

"Because he sent them to me," said Eleanor. "It is the same thing."

"That is dutiful, and loyal, and all that sort of thing," said Mr.
Rhys, helping himself to another grape, and looking with his keen eyes
and imperturbable gravity at Eleanor. Perhaps _he_ liked to see the
scarlet bloom he could so easily call up in her cheeks, which was now
accompanied with a little impatient glance at him. "Nevertheless, I do
not consider myself to be within the scope of the gift. The disposition
of it remains with you. I do not like the responsibilities of other
people's wealth to rest on my shoulders."

"But this fruit is different from what we have on the island; is there
not something you would like to have done with it?"

"I should like you to give me one bunch of grapes--to be chosen by
yourself."

He looked on, with a satisfied expression of face, while Eleanor's
fingers separated and overhauled the fruit till she had got a bunch to
her mind; and stood still in his place to let her bring it to him. Then
took possession of her and the grapes at once, neglecting the latter
however entirely, to consider her.

"What would you like to have done with the rest, Rowland?" said
Eleanor, while her face glowed under his caresses and examination.

"This is a very becoming dress you have on!"

"I did not know you noticed ladies' dresses."

"I always notice my own."

Eleanor's head drooped a little, to hide the rush of pleasure and shame.

"But, Rowland," she said with gentle persistence, "what _would_ you
like to have done with that basket? Isn't there some meaning behind
your words about it?"

"What makes you think so?" said he, curling the corners of his mouth in
an amused way.

"I thought so. Please tell it me! You have something to tell me."

"The fruit is