"You shall not venture, my dear," said her mother, who wore a widow's costume, "unless you feel quite willing to do so." "Oh, thank you, mamma, but I would rather go with you. I want to conquer this nervousness on the water; why, even on a steamer I always feel afraid." While they talked the men were launching a prettily-rigged pleasure boat, the colours of green and gold with which it was painted gleaming in pleasant contrast with the rippling water; and over the seats in the stern an awning was stretched to protect the ladies from the sun's rays. Mrs. St. Clair and her elder daughter, Mrs. Herbert, with her little boy of four, were, however, safely seated in the boat before Maria could make up her mind to follow them. At a part of West Cowes near this landing-place stood a row of private houses, the back windows overlooking the sea, and the gardens reaching down to it protected by a sea wall. As in Devonshire, the foliage of this beautiful island in some part stretches down to the water's edge, and gardens near the sea are often well filled with roses and other summer flowers in profusion. In one of these gardens, and very near the boundary wall against which the high tide dashed pleasantly, stood a gentleman earnestly watching the embarkation of the party in the pleasure-boat. His dress was more like that of the yeoman of those days than the seaside costume of a gentleman. The thick shoes and drab gaiters, part of the customary garb of a farmer, were, however, concealed by the garden wall, and when for a moment he took off the white, low-crowned beaver hat, and rubbed his fingers through his hair, the face and head were those of a handsome man of the intellectual type. Regular features, clear olive skin, dark sparkling eyes, hair, eyebrows, and whiskers of almost raven blackness, and a certain air of refinement, were certainly not quite in character with his homely attire. "Where have I seen that face?" he said to himself, as Maria St. Clair paused irresolutely with one foot on the prow of the boat. "It is very beautiful." And the gentleman's reflections were not far wrong. Plainly, but tastefully dressed, the lithe figure slightly bent forward in a shrinking, yet graceful attitude, and the outstretched tiny foot were attractive enough to excite notice. But the face truly deserved the epithet bestowed upon it by the lounger in the garden. Fair at this moment, even to paleness, the delicately-chiselled features, the half-opened lips, expressive of fear, and exposing the pearly teeth, and the long fair ringlets that fell on her shoulders made up a picture which when once seen was not easily forgotten. Such a face is often supposed to belong to a woman devoid of character or insipid, but from this appearance it was saved by marked eyebrows darker than the hair and violet eyes shaded by long dark lashes.