"Oh, that's the young gentleman as wer' Miss Violet's sweetheart," said the barmaid confidentially; "nobody don't know of it, but I heard the Missus a-saying so." "Why bean't he at the house then?" "Oh, ye know, he ain't her sweetheart no longer; there's been a muddle somehow, and they do say as how he shot hisself, but he don't seem to be shot much now, to look at 'im. He's as likely and proper a young gentleman as I've seen for a long time." Taking his candle wearily, Kennedy listened to no more of the conversation, and went to bed. His bedroom window looked towards the pleasant house and garden of Mrs Home, and he did not lie down till he had seen the light extinguished in the embowered window of Violet's room. Next morning he got up betimes, and after dressing himself with the utmost pain and difficulty, for he did not like to ask for the assistance which he always had at home since his illness, he went down to breakfast. Hardly touching the dainties which the hospitable old landlady had provided, he strolled off to the wood, almost before Ildown was a-stir, and sat down in a place, not far from the King's Oak, in a green hollow, where he was sheltered from sight by the broad tree trunks, and the tall and graceful ferns. He had not long to wait, and the time so spent would have been happy if agitation had not prevented him from enjoying the glories of the scene. Nowhere was "the gorgeous and melancholy beauty of the sunlit autumnal landscape more bounteously displayed." The grand old trees all round him were burning themselves away in many-coloured flames, and the green leaves that still lingered amid the rich hues of beautiful decay, suggested, in their contrasting harmony with their withered brethren, many a deep moral to the thoughtful mind: and everything that the thoughts could shape received a deeper emphasis from the unbroken silence of the wood. The occupation of his mind made the time pass quickly, and it seemed but a few minutes when he saw the Homes approaching the King's Oak. The boys laid on the greensward the materials for the picnic, and then, while Violet and Mrs Home seated themselves on a fallen trunk and took out their work, Julian read to them, and Cyril and Frank walked through the wood in search of exercise and amusement. As they passed near the spot where Kennedy was seated, they caught sight of a squirrel's nest, and Frank was instantly on the alert to reach the spoil. While he was scrambling with difficulty up the tall fir, Cyril stayed at the foot, and Kennedy determined to call him. Cyril had grown into a tall handsome boy of seventeen, and Kennedy knew that he could be trusted to help him, for he had won the boy's affection thoroughly when they were together in Switzerland. "Cyril!" The sound of a voice in that quiet place, out of earshot of his friends, startled Cyril, and he turned hastily round. "Who's there?"