The sky was a rare blue above the green lawns, the old red walls, and the silvery grass-land of the park. As they walked the box-edged paths betwixt the stately yews and hollies Miss Jilian began to rally Richard on his adventure in the woods. “How gallant and romantic it was, to be sure! Do you think, Richard, that you would have rescued me from some wicked ruffian had your poor cousin been at his mercy?” Jeffray was convincing in his chivalrous protestations. “Why, Jilian, can you doubt it?” “And you would have fought for me, Richard?” queried the young lady, with charming wonder. “Fight for you, Jilian? Why I would defend you with my life.” “La, Richard,” she exclaimed, blushing, “how brave you are! Tell me, was the girl pretty?” “Pretty, Jilian?” “Now, Richard, I am sure she was pretty.” “Perhaps she was,” said Richard, with studied carelessness. “Were she ugly or otherwise, I only did my duty as a gentleman and a man.” “You dear lad,” quoth Miss Hardacre, tenderly. “Jilian!” “Now don’t pretend you don’t know how brave and noble you are. Ah, Heavens, only to think of it; the wretch might have killed you! It makes me shudder, Richard; it does indeed.” Jeffray, much touched, looked at the young lady with affectionate and chivalrous candor. “And should you have cared, dear cousin?” he asked her. Miss Hardacre flushed crimson and hung her head. How pretty her downcast lashes looked as they swept her fair cheeks; what a sweet, sad smile hovered about her lips. “Oh, Richard,” she said, “can you not believe—?” “I believe all that is good and pure and kind of you, dear cousin.” “There, sir, there; you are making me blush so that I shall hardly be able to face your aunt. You must not flatter a simple girl so. Ah, Richard,”—and she sighed—“thank Heaven that you are safe and well.” How could Mr. Jeffray bear himself under such delicate flattery but declare Miss Hardacre to be the kindest and best of women, and to abuse his own foolish heart for dreaming dreams about young ladies with red petticoats and coal-black hair? What a weak creature he was, and what a noble being this cousin of his appeared! He was very tender and attentive to Miss Jilian that day, nor did the lady fail to encourage such an admirable display of affection. She flashed shy and melting glances into Mr. Richard’s face, blushed dearly when he spoke to her, and was as gentle and as sweet as any convent saint. Jeffray strove to forget poor Bess of the Woods, whose fierce blue eyes blazed out at him continually.