his wall at Christ's College, and because of his known love and study of the pure and ideal character of Sir Galahad, he had himself been so most unworthily nicknamed by his companions, and in consequence had ever humbly striven to deserve in some poor sort so good a name, though it were given him but in idle jest. And he had told her further how much he had wondered at hearing this name fall unawares from her lips on the day of their first meeting by the Craig Aran Pool, upon which she had explained to him that from her childhood she had accounted Sir Galahad to be her own ideal knight, and that Lady Rosamond having told her of his bearing the name in jest, and she herself feeling sure that she whom she then beheld was Master Vere and no other, had let fall the name in her sudden surprise and bewilderment--adding somewhat saucily, that she as yet had seen no reason to doubt its fitness, after which speech she remembered even now the earnest gaze of his eyes which had met hers as though they would read her inmost soul, and the half-sigh with which he had then turned hastily from her and changed the subject. "I may not dare presume to think he loves me," was often her last thought at night, in the silence of her own chamber, "but I know that I may feel I am accounted worthy to be named among his friends, and that, for one of unknown parentage like me, must be all I dare to covet or suffer to enter my dreams. And to possess the friendship of one who leads so pure and holy a life is methinks far more to be desired than the love of any other man, wherefore I will daily pray for the continuance of so great a blessing, nor dare to ask for that of which I must ever feel myself far too unworthy. And since it is not enough for us to 'leave the evil,' but we are also commanded to 'do the good,' I will ask our vicar to set me tasks to do for him among the poor and suffering, which will surely help me better to fulfil that good saying, than to be ever wandering and dreaming by the riverside, as I have hitherto done. For though it is fair and sweet to lie in the shady copse, and listen to the singing of the birds and the rippling of the water, and dream pleasant things all the livelong day, yet who can tell in this world of sin and sorrow whether any of those dreams may ever come to pass, or whether I may not myself be bidden to take up my cross, and share the lot of those who are called upon to drink the bitter cup of suffering with their Lord?" So, as the pleasant summer months went by, and the cold winds of autumn blew shrill through the valley, the light step of the Fair Maid of Gwynnon, who ever bore her hero's image in her heart and his example before her eyes, went hither and thither on errands of mercy, and her sweet face and voice of music brought sunshine and joy to many a sick bed and weary heart in the lonely hamlets around. And to old Jack the boatman she ever seemed to grow more fair and winsome, and as he