Margery smiled, and then put her arm round the collie’s neck, and drew the dog’s head on to her knees. The retriever had retired to a shady spot, and was stretched out fast asleep. Stuart launched at once into anecdotes of the sea; he knew just where to put a telling touch and wake the interest; and Margery listened eagerly, drinking in the wonders with pretty incredulity and making Stuart break into hearty fits of laughter at her ignorant nautical remarks. The afternoon passed quickly; the sun had moved round, and cast slanting rays of golden light into the green nook. It touched Margery’s head, seeming to rest on the soft silky curls with delight. She looked so sweet in her plain white gown--a very flower of purity and beauty--that Stuart’s eyes, resting on her, would make him hesitate in his story and his heart thrill with a strong wave of unspeakable pleasure. To Margery the moments slipped away too quickly; she reveled in these tales of strange countries, in the adventures and hair-breadth escapes that had filled those two years of travel. “How beautiful and how strange it must have been, Mr. Stuart!” she said, drawing a deep breath, after a while. “You must find Hurstley dull.” “Hurstley to me is the most beautiful place in the whole world,” Stuart said, involuntarily. “I love it.” “And so do I!” cried the girl. “But then I am different.” There was a slight pause, and she went on thinking of what he had just told her. “Then I was wrong when I said you had not worked--why, you helped to save the ship that stormy night, Mr. Stuart!” Stuart smiled as he moved nearer and held out his hand. “There is the mark of the cut from one of the ropes. Now, you will give me credit for some good, Margery?” The girl took the hand between her own two small brown ones. She bent her head to look at the scar, while, at the touch of her fingers, Stuart felt his whole being thrill and the last barrier that stood between himself and his love melt away. “Yes--yes, I see,” Margery said, gently. “Oh, Mr. Stuart, what pain you must have suffered!” She raised her luminous eyes to him, their blue depths darkened almost to blackness at the thought of that terrible night at sea, and met the steady, passionate gaze bent on her. Some new sense flooded her mind; in one second all her girlish innocence vanished; she knew that she was on the brink of a great wondrous event, though she could not guess what it was. She dropped Stuart’s hand, and rose hurriedly. “It is getting late; we must go,” she declared. “Mother will want me.” Stuart at once moved to her side. He took the sunbonnet from her hand, and imprisoned the small fingers within his own.