oung folks. I mean to be
pretty stringent, though, I can assure you: I won't have a tree
touched--no timber felled; there is none too much now. I should not
like the lake drained either: I should particularly object to that. It
might be said," continued Sir Murray, hastily, "that it made the place
damp; but I don't think it--I don't think it."

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything distasteful, of course," said the
Viscount. "Always be glad of your advice, of course, if I had any ideas
of improving anything. By the way, though, Gernon, she's mad after
botany."

"She? Who is?" said Sir Murray, starting.

"She is--Isa, you know. I shall have to work it up, for she don't seem
to like my not being able to enter into the names of weeds with her.
Not a weedy man myself, you know, eh? Ha, ha, ha!" And he laughed at
what he intended for a joke.

"Was she botanising to-day?" said Sir Murray, huskily.

"Ya-a-as! Said it was her mother's favourite pursuit, though I don't
know why she should like it for that reason, eh?"

"Who told her that absurd nonsense?" exclaimed Sir Murray, angrily.

"Well, she did tell me," said the lover; "but, a--a--really, you know, I
can't recollect. Don't particularly want to know, I suppose?"

"Oh no--oh no!" exclaimed Sir Murray, impatiently. "But this place,
Maudlaine--I should like it kept as it is: the timber, you know; and you
would not drain the lake?"

"Oh no! of course not. But, I say, you know, I--a--a--a suppose it will
be all right?"

"Right--all right?" said Sir Murray, whose face wore a cadaverous hue.
"What do you mean by all right?"

"Well, you know, I mean about Isa. I haven't said anything pointed to
her yet, though we two have made it all right. She won't refuse me,
eh?"

"Refuse? No: absurd!"

"Well, I don't know so much about that. I get thinking sometimes that
she ain't so very far gone with me. Snubs me, you know,--turns huffy,
and that sort of thing."

"My dear Maudlaine," said Sir Murray, with a sneering laugh, which there
was no need of the other interpreting, "you are too timid--too diffident
for a man of your years."

"Well, I don't know," said his lordship, "I don't think I am; but she's
a style of woman I'm not used to. Don't seem dazzled, and all that sort
of thing, you know. Some women would be ready to jump out of their
skins to be a viscountess, and by-and-by an earl's wife; but she don't--
not a bit--not that sort of woman; and if I