so or
not?"

"I have seen that view several times," she answered; and then, after a
little pause, she added, "But I don't mind in the least seeing it
again." Together we walked to the bluff. There we found two rude seats
which had been made for the convenience of viewers, and on one of these
she seated herself.

"Now," said she, "please sit down, and you may immediately begin to ask
me about Sister Ha--"

"Oh, do not call her by that name!" I cried.

She laughed. "Very well, then," said she, "what shall I call her?"

"Sylvia," I replied.

She opened her eyes. "Upon my word," she exclaimed, "this is progress!
How did you come to know that her name is Sylvia?"

"She told me," I answered. "But why do you think I want to ask you about
Sylvia?"

"I knew there was no other reason for your wishing to have a private
talk with me; but I must admit that I would not have felt warranted to
act upon my assumptions had you not announced yourself in this place as
a Lover in Check."

"But could not some one else have held me in check?" I asked.

"No, sir," said she. "I have heard of the manner in which you parted
from your late secretary."

This conversation was getting to be plainer than I desired it to be. I
was willing to declare my position, but I did not care to have it
declared for me. I was silent for a minute.

"I did not suppose," I then said, "that you were so well informed. You
think that I am a lover held in check by the circumstances surrounding
the lady you designated my late secretary?"

"I do."

"May I ask," I continued, with a little agitation, "if Sylvia considers
me in this light, and if she has--expressed any opinion on the subject?"

"Those are pretty questions," said the lady, fixing her dark eyes upon
me. "She has said nothing about the light in which she considers you. In
fact, all she has told me about you has been in answer to questions I
have put to her; but had she spoken of you as a lover, checked or
unchecked, of course you would have been none the wiser for me. Sylvia
is a simple-hearted, frank girl, and I have thought that she might not
have suspected the nature of your very decided liking for her; but now
that I have found out that she let you know her as Sylvia I am afraid
she is deeper than I thought her. I should not be surprised if you two
had flirted dreadfully."

"I never flirt," I answered emphatically.

"That is right," said she. "Never do it."

"But why," I asked, "did