tirred so gently in the wind, violets that hid
themselves under their leaves, cowslips like little tips of gold, wild
strawberry blossoms that looked like snow-flakes.

How fair it was. The sunbeams fell through the great green boughs,
throwing long shadows on the grass. It was a beautiful, silent world,
all perfume and light. The poetry of it touched both of them.

Lord Chandos was the first to speak; he had been watching the proud,
beautiful face of Leone; and suddenly he said:

"You look out of place here, Miss Noel; I can hardly tell you why."

"That is what my uncle says; he is always asking me if I cannot make
myself more like the girls of Rashleigh."

"I hope you never will," he cried, warmly.

"I do not know how," she said. "I must always be what God and nature
made me."

"They made you fair enough," he whispered.

And then he owned to himself that she was not like other girls.

She drew back proudly, swiftly; no smile came to her lips, no laughing
light to her eyes.

"Speak to me as you would to one in your own rank, my lord," she said,
haughtily. "Though fate has made me a farmer's niece, nature made
me----"

"A queen," he interrupted.

And she was satisfied with the acknowledgment. They sat down under one
of the great oak-trees, a great carpet of bluebells under their feet.

Leone looked thoughtful; she gathered some sprays of bluebells and held
them in her hands, her white fingers toying with the little flowers,
then she spoke:

"I know," she said, "that no lady--for instance, in your own rank of
life--would walk through this wood with you on a summer's afternoon."

A laugh came over his handsome, happy young face.

"I do not know. I am inclined to think the opposite."

"I do not understand what you would call etiquette; but I am quite sure
you would never ask one."

"I am not sure. If I had met one in what you are pleased to call my rank
of life last night by the mill-stream, looking as you looked, I am quite
sure that I should ask her to walk with me and talk with me at any
time."

"I should like to see your world," she said. "I know the world of the
poor and the middle class, but I do not know yours."

"You will know some day," he said, quietly. "Do not be angry with me if
I tell you that in all my world I have never seen one like you. Do not
be angry, I am not flattering you, I am saying just what I think."

"Why do you think that some day I may see your world?" she asked.

"B