That pleasant and goodly thing, a woman’s beauty—ever old, yet ever new—old as the world, yet new as the dawning day—chased all disagreeable thoughts out of Lord Kemms’ mind, while Dr. Mackay’s lines took their place:— “And now and then I’ll see thy face, Mid boughs and branches peeping.” He had never known how beautiful a woman’s face could look till he beheld Bessie’s through that tracery of leaf, and twig, and stem. More than ever now he desired to renew his acquaintance with Lally, who came forth from her hiding-place, and, in reply to his tender inquiries, informed him she was quite well,—that mamma was quite well; after which conversational effort, Lally—a surprised mass of muslin, hair, and freckles—stood, her lap full of flowers, looking at Lord Kemms. “What lovely flowers!” he said. “Bessie’s!” explained Lally, nodding in the direction of the pretty face, the owner of which now, with the assistance of Lord Kemms, emerged from amid the hedge of evergreens, and stood before his lordship, laughing and blushing, a vision of loveliness worth contemplating. “We were gathering flowers,” she said, in elucidation of Lally’s statement. “A very appropriate occupation,” remarked his lordship, gallantly. He would have liked nothing better than ten minutes’ conversation with this young lady, who had appeared so unexpectedly before him; but Miss Ormson was not inclined to gratify this innocent desire, and made her disinclination so prettily apparent, that his lordship had no resource left but to bid Lally farewell, which he did most affectionately. “Good-bye, dear.” “Dood-bye!” and Lally confided to him one of her little brown hands. “Will you give me a kiss?” “Iss;” and Lally made up her mouth, and went through the ceremony with laudable readiness and composure. “Remember, you promised to marry me. I’m to wait for you, you know.” “Iss.” Lally was perfectly agreeable. “You will not promise so readily fifteen years hence, little one,” he said; but this being a step beyond Lally’s understanding, she kept silence with a wisdom which might not have belonged to her fifteen years hence, either. And, indeed, no answer was required from her, Bessie and Lord Kemms having settled the matter with a mutual smile, after which, as the leave-taking had been already unduly prolonged, the visitor lifted his hat in adieu to Bessie, and departed. “Why didn’t he tiss ’oo?” Lally inquired, quite loud enough for Lord Kemms to hear. “You naughty child!” exclaimed Bessie; “hush! hush! hush!” and then the pair broke their way through the evergreen hedge again, and returned, ostensibly, to their former employment of gathering flowers.