"Good honest sunlight--strong enough to steep everything in mist, I really do," replied Mr. Haveloc. "You are thinking of Italy?" "No; of English sunshine. I never think of Italy." These last words were spoken as if he meant to infer that there was something a great deal more attractive than Italy in her near neighbourhood. Her hand was resting on his arm; he pressed it, and she did not attempt to withdraw it. She felt no doubt respecting his love; he expressed it in his manner, and she was sure he would not act a falsehood. It was all under her uncle's eye, and if he had disapproved of it, he would have put a stop to it before now. It made her perfectly happy, and a little frightened only when she thought he was on the point of saying something decisive. She would so gladly have gone on exactly as they were then. "This is very pretty," said Mr. Haveloc, as they again paused opposite to the dark mournful cedars. "Oh, beautiful!" returned Margaret. "If there were but some old oaks about the place: but those ash-trees in the meadow near the copse--those are really splendid, are they not?" "Very fine! When I was staying here as Mr. Grey's ward, I believe I used to sketch those trees once a week." "I wish I could sketch!" "Do you? I have no respect for the arts; I had rather a person should appreciate pictures than paint them." "But do you not think painting them helps one to appreciate them?" "I think it teaches one to know the difficulties, but not to feel the sentiment." "Uncle Grey, do you smell the Chinese honeysuckle?" asked Margaret, pausing before the window. "Yes my love; it is very strong to-night." "Are you ready for your tea, uncle?" "I shall be in about ten minutes, my dear." "Can you guess ten minutes, Mr. Haveloc?" Mr. Haveloc looked at his watch, and could not distinguish the figures. Margaret thought she could see better. He held the watch to her--she pored over it in vain. "You must guess it now, Mr. Haveloc." "Mr. Grey is not very particular," said Mr. Haveloc, "I think I may venture." They walked on to the end of the terrace. "Do you recollect one day when I kept the dinner waiting," said Mr. Haveloc. "Oh, yes! I remember," said Margaret with a sigh--it was the day that had begun her troubles with Hubert Gage. "Mr. Casement was so cross because he could not fathom your business with Mr. Grey." "What a long deliverance we have had from the old monster," said Mr. Haveloc. "Oh, yes! I was so glad when--" Margaret stopped short. "When he was laid up with the rheumatism," added Mr. Haveloc, laughing. "Oh, no! not exactly. One ought not to be glad of that; but really, I think I rejoiced that anything kept him out of the way." "Gessina is growing quite fat," said Mr. Haveloc, as the beautiful creature bounded towards them. "Stop! I am going to carry her," said Margaret stooping down. "Cannot you trust me to do that?" asked Mr. Haveloc. "No; because I am going to wrap her in a corner of my shawl."