in, who said
a great many flattering things to her was, after all, more interesting
than a minor Canon, who was to be worshipped from afar, and who when
actually introduced to her the day before by her aunt, when he called in
virtue of his office in the cathedral, had not seemed to desire to
cultivate her acquaintance; certainly had made her no pretty speeches.
Melville, on the contrary, made her a great many, and she listened with
unquestioning faith, and profound interest to his stories of high life,
and the men with titles with whom he was on familiar terms, and the
large wine parties at Oxford to which Maythorne came.

Gilbert caught the sound of that name, and turning quickly, his deep
blue eyes shot a warning glance, which could not be mistaken, as he said
in a voice audible to those nearest him:

"The less said about _him_ the better."

The day passed quickly, and it was proposed that the younger portion of
the party should walk up the uneven road between the rocks, and, taking
the rough paths over the flat country, into which the gorge opens, reach
Fair Acres by crossing it, a distance of some six miles.

Charlotte was to remain at Fair Acres for the night, but both she and
Melville preferred to drive with the squire and Mrs. Falconer and Piers.
Charlotte's shoes were too thin for scrambling, and a country walk was
not at all to Melville's taste.

"Off with you, then," said the squire, "and mind you keep the road to
the left, or you will find yourselves on Mendip, and if it gets dark
that may not be so pleasant."

"I know the way, father," Ralph said; "and so do Harry and Bunny. We
shall not lose ourselves."

"Perhaps Joyce had better drive," her father said, just as the five
were starting. "Sunshine, what do you think?"

"I think that we are more likely to lose our way, sir," Gilbert said,
"if you take the sun from us."

The squire laughed.

"Well, that may be true. Take care of your sister, boys."

The ascent through the Ebbor cliffs is difficult; there is a vast
quantity of thin sharp stones, worn by the action of the water from the
face of the rocks. Although not nearly so grand as Cheddar, Ebbor has
many points of beauty. The rocks are fantastic in form, and as the path
winds between them they assume various shapes, like miniature towers and
bastions, clothed with ivy, and coloured with dark brown and yellow
lichen.

The air, when they were fairly in the open country, was fresh and crisp;
th