down to kiss the warm, white hand. She drew it quickly from him.

"You would not have done that to one of your own class," she cried; "why
do you do it to me?"

"You are not really angry, Leone?" he cried in wonder.

She turned her beautiful face, colorless with indignation, to him.

"I am so far angry," she said, "that I shall not walk through the woods
with you--never again."

She kept her word. For two whole days Lord Chandos wandered through the
fields and the lanes, through the woods and by the river, yet he saw no
sight of her. It was possible that she punished herself quite as much as
she did him; but he must be taught that, were he twenty times an earl,
he must never venture on even the least liberty with her; he must wait
her permission before he kissed her hand.

The fourth day--he could bear it no longer--he rode past the farm twenty
times and more; at length he was fortunate enough to see Farmer Noel,
and throwing the reins on his horse's neck he got down and went up to
him.

"Have you a dog to sell?" he asked. "Some one told me you had very fine
dogs."

"I have good dogs, but none to sell," replied the farmer.

"I want a dog, and I would give a good price for a good one," he said.
"Will you let me see yours?"

"Yes, you can see them, but you cannot buy them," said Robert Noel; and
the next scene was the handsome young lordling going round the farm,
with the stalwart, stolid farmer.

He won the farmer's heart by his warm praises of the farm, the cattle,
the dogs, and everything else he saw; still there was no Leone.

"I am very thirsty; should you think me very impertinent if I asked you
for a glass of cider?" he said; and the farmer, flattered by the
request, took him into the little parlor. He looked at his visitor in
simple wonder.

"They say you are a great lord's son," he said; "but if you are, you
have no pride about you."

Lord Chandos laughed; and the farmer called Leone. There was a pause,
during which the young lord's heart beat and his face flushed.

"Leone," cried the farmer again.

He turned to his visitor.

"You will wonder what 'Leone' means, it is such a strange name; it is my
niece. Here she comes."

The loveliest picture in all the world, trying hard to preserve her
usual stately grace, yet with a blushing, dimpling smile that made her
lovely beyond words.

"Leone," said the farmer, "will you bring a jug of cider?"

"Pray," cried the lord, "do not trouble yourself,