he was! he thought; and straightway began to argue with
himself that, as his boots were in such evil plight, it would be more
pleasant to spend the evening with Letty and her friend, than to hold
on his way to his own friend's, and spend the evening smoking and
lounging about the stable, or hearing his sister play polkas and
mazurkas all the still Sunday twilight.

Mary had, of course, upon her arrival, narrated her small adventure,
and the conversation had again turned upon Godfrey just as he was
nearing the house.

"How handsome your cousin is!" said Mary, with the simplicity natural
to her.

"Do you think so?" returned Letty.

"Don't _you_ think so?" rejoined Mary.

"I have never thought about it," answered Letty.

"He looks so manly, and has such a straightforward way with him!" said
Mary.

"What one sees every day, she may feel in a sort of take-for-granted
way, without thinking about it," said Letty. "But, to tell the truth, I
should feel it as impertinent of me to criticise Cousin Godfrey's
person as to pass an opinion on one of the books he reads. I can not
express the reverence I have for Cousin Godfrey."

"I don't wonder," replied Mary. "There is that about him one could
trust."

"There is that about him," returned Letty, "makes me afraid of him--I
can not tell why. And yet, though everybody, even his mother, is as
anxious to please him as if he were an emperor, he is the easiest
person to please in the whole house. Not that he tells you he is
pleased; he only smiles; but that is quite enough."

"But I suppose he talks to you sometimes?" said Mary.

"Oh, yes--now. He used not; but I think he does now more than to
anybody else. It was a long time before he began, though. Now he is
always giving me something to read. I wish he wouldn't; it frightens me
dreadfully. He always questions me, to know whether I understand what I
read."

Letty ended with a little cry. Through the one narrow gap in the yew
hedge, near to the arbor, Godfrey had entered the walk, and was coming
toward them.

He was a well-made man, thirty years of age, rather tall, sun-tanned,
and bearded, with wavy brown hair, and gentle approach. His features
were not regular, but that is of little consequence where there is
unity. His face indicated faculty and feeling, and there was much good
nature, shadowed with memorial suffering, in the eyes which shone so
blue out of the brown.

Mary rose respectfully as he drew near.

"What