"Oh, I don't feel tired, uncle," she replied, "at least, not very--besides, this is our last day at Oxford, and I must have a farewell walk." "A walk wont hurt her," said Mrs. Herbert, who was lying on the sofa; "young people have a reserve force of strength which enables them to recover quickly from fatigue." A very few minutes brought Henry Halford and his companions to the Long Walk, in which many persons were already assembled. The sun, still in full brightness, was approaching the west, and his slanting rays glittered like golden bands of light through the summer foliage. But neither Mary nor her friends seemed inclined for promenading in a crowd, so they sauntered slowly away from the company towards the river side. Here they found a seat, and were presently joined by Charles's friend Wilton. For more than an hour they sat talking over the events of the day, and other matters connected with university life, to which Mary had very little to do but listen with great interest. Suddenly Horace Wilton rose, and exclaimed, "Here are my aunt and cousin, Captain Herbert; will you allow me to introduce them to you?" Mary Armstrong and Henry Halford also rose as the ladies approached, for they recognised Mrs. Drummond and her niece Edith Longford, whose musical powers had been a matter of discussion between them at the dinner party. A mutual and surprised recognition took place amidst sundry inquiries. "How long have you been at Oxford?" "When did you arrive?" "What have you seen?" and so on. At length Mrs. Drummond suggested that they should retrace their steps to the chief entrance, as the evening was becoming cool. The whole party therefore returned towards the Long Walk. As usual in such cases, each gentleman fell into companionship with the one lady to whom at the time of moving he happened to be speaking. Horace Wilton therefore led the way with his aunt, Charles walked by the side of Edith Longford, evidently much pleased with her companionship, and Mary found herself alone with Henry Halford. In this lingering summer evening walk there was no occasion for a gentleman to offer his arm to the lady who accompanied him moving slowly by his side. Mary therefore felt herself free. She was, however, for some minutes silently occupied in contemplating the calm beauty of the sunset, which threw over the park-like enclosure of Christchurch Meadows a glow of crimson and gold. Behind them the rippling waters of the Thames dashed their tiny waves against the mossy banks. At a distance in front, the turrets and grey walls of the college glittered through the trees with the gleam of sunset. A thrush in a thicket close by was sweetly warbling his evening hymn of praise; and the scent of new-mown hay filled the air with its fragrance.