an in the Maze; and throws up the sponge at last,
utterly beat. Helplessly devoted to his sister, but rather obstinate
with other people, and apt to be sulky sometimes; but good-natured on
the whole; and drinks _very_ fair."

"Oh, he drinks fair, does he?" Royston said, meditatively. "Has that any
thing to do with his brotherly affection? Every body who is fond of Miss
Tresilyan seems to take to liquor. Annesley was pretty sober till he
knew her. It's rather odd. I don't suppose she encourages them?"

"Certainly not; at least, I know she has tried to stint Dick in his
brandy very often. It's the only point she has never been able to
carry."

"A man must be firm about some one thing," the other remarked, "or
there's an end of free-agency altogether. He has no intellects to be
affected by it apparently; and I dare say his health does not suffer
much yet. It's a question of constitution, after all."

He dropped the subject then, and was very silent all the rest of the
morning, till they came to the place of meeting. Somehow or another, it
did not occur to him to mention to Harry what he had seen on the
terrace.

They had not waited long before the three women came slowly up the
zigzags of the path that wound round the Castle-hill. Dick Tresilyan had
"got his pass signed" for the day, and had started off, with his
courier, to make the lives of several natives a burden to them, on the
subject of _becasses_ and _becassines_.

Cecil might have been known by her walk among ten thousand. She seemed
to float along without any visible exertion, as if her dress were
buoyant, and bore her up in some mysterious fashion; but, looking
closer, and marking how straight and firmly and lightly every footfall
was planted, you gave the narrow arched instep, and the slender rounded
ankle, the credit they well deserved; marveling only that so delicate a
symmetry could conceal so much sinewy power. Upon this occasion, she was
evidently accommodating her pace to that of Mrs. Danvers; and no racing
man could have seen the two, without thinking of one of the Flyers of
the turf walking down by the side of the trainer's pony.

Miss Tresilyan's hat, of a soft black felt, shaded by a black cock's
feather, was decidedly in advance of her age: for that very provocative
head-gear, with the many-colored _panaches_, had not then become so
common; and even the Passionate Pilgrim might hope (with luck) to walk
along a pier or a parade, without meetin