This morning the golden-haired sister left the cliff first, and Beatrice sat reading until the noonday sun shone upon the sea. Her book charmed her; it was a story telling of the life she loved and longed for--of the gay, glad world. Unfortunately all the people in the book were noble, heroic, and ideal. The young girl, in her simplicity, believed that they who lived in the world she longed for were all like the people in her book. When she left the path that led to the meadows, she saw by her side the stranger who had met her the day before. Again he bowed profoundly, and, with many well-expressed apologies, asked some trifling question about the road. Beatrice replied briefly, but she could not help seeing the wonder of admiration in his face. Her own grew crimson under his gaze--he saw it, and his heart beat high with triumph. As Beatrice went through the meadows he walked by her side. She never quite remembered how it happened, but in a few minutes he was telling her how many years had passed since he had seen the spring in England. She forgot all restraint, all prudence, and raised her beautiful eyes to his. "Ah, then," she cried, "you have seen the great world that lies over the wide sea." "Yes," he replied, "I have seen it. I have been in strange, bright lands, so different from England that they seemed to belong to another world. I have seen many climes, bright skies, and glittering seas, where the spice islands lie." As he spoke, in words that were full of wild, untutored eloquence, he saw the young girl's eyes riveted upon him. Sure of having roused her attention, he bowed, apologized for his intrusion, and left her. Had Dora been like other mothers, Beatrice would have related this little adventure and told of the handsome young traveler who had been in strange climes. As it was, knowing her mother's utter dread of all men--her fear lest her children should ever love and marry--Beatrice never named the subject. She thought much of Hugh Fernely--not of him himself, but of the world he had spoken about--and she hoped it might happen to her to meet him again. "If we had some one here who could talk in that way," she said to herself, "the Elms would not be quite so insupportable." Two days afterward, Beatrice, wandering on the sands, met Hugh Fernely. She saw the startled look of delight on his face, and smiled at his pleasure. "Pray forgive me," he said. "I--I can not pass you without one word. Time has seemed to me like one long night since I saw you last." He held in his hand some beautiful lilies of the valley--every little white warm bell was perfect. He offered them to her with a low bow. "This is the most beautiful flower I have seen for many years," he said. "May I be forgiven for begging permission to offer it to the most beautiful lady I have ever seen?"