“No, Saar, he is a much-to-be-pitied, and not the less-for-that-very dignified youth.” “How Homeric it makes language to think in German. There he is, Ada, waving a rag of some sort, in farewell to you.” Ada kissed her hand several times to him, and then hastened below into the cabin. “I have asked Luttrell’s leave to call on him,” said Vyner. “I thought you would,” was the dry reply. “I only wrote one line, and made my request in the name of our old friendship.” “Well, of course, you are the best judge of your own duties; only, for my own part, I beg, if I ever should turn hermit, that you’ll not think yourself bound to have me shaved and trimmed for the honour of dining some one day at your table.” “Upon my word, I think it would be a pity to take you out of your cave, or whatever you call it,” said the governess, with a spiteful laugh. “There, don’t fight any more till tea-time,” said Vyner, laughingly. “Who’ll come on shore with me? I’m for a ramble over that purple mountain yonder.” “I have the music-lesson.” “And I have the remainder of that article in the _Quarterly_,” said Grenfell, “which proves incontestably the utter hopelessness of Ireland. The writer knows the people well, and describes their faults of character perfectly.” A low faint sob caught Vyner’s ear, and, on hurrying below, he found Ada seated at the table, with her head leaning on her arms. “What’s the matter, Ada darling?” asked he, gently. “Oh, papa, it was for his mother he was crying, for though she seldom spoke to him or noticed him, he used to see her at the window, and now he’ll never see her more.” “We must try and comfort him, Ada; the poor boy has a very dreary lot in life.” “He says he is happy, papa! and that he only hopes he’ll never have to leave this lonely island all his life.” “Did he speak of his father at all?” “No, papa; only to say that he’d never remember whether he was at home or abroad, and that it was so pleasant not to have any one who cared what became of one.” “And you--did you agree with him?” “Oh no, no!” cried she, as her eyes swam in tears. “I could have told him how much better it was to be loved.” Vyner turned away to hide his own emotion, and then, with an affected carelessness, said, “Get over this music-lesson now, and whenever you are free tell Mr. Crab to hoist a bit of white bunting to the peak, and I’ll come back to fetch you for a walk with me.” “Is Mr. Grenfell going, papa?” “No, darling; but why do you ask?” “Because--because--I’d rather go with you alone. It is always so much nicer and happier.”