“And a pretty spot it is,” continued she, purposely misunderstanding him; “so sheltered and secluded. By the way, what do you think of the curate's sister? She is very beautiful, isn't she?” “Am I to say the truth?” “Of course you are.” “I mean, may I speak as though we knew each other very well, and could talk in confidence together?” “That is what I mean.” “And wish?” added he. “Well, and wish, if you will supply the word.” “If I am to be frank, then, I don't admire her.” “Not think her beautiful?” “Yes; there is some beauty,--a good deal of beauty, if you like; but somehow it is not allied with that brightness that seems to accentuate beauty. She is tame and cold.” “I think men generally accuse her of coquetry.” “And there is coquetry, too; but of that character the French call _minauderie_, the weapon of a very small enchantress, I assure you.” “You are, then, for the captivations that give no quarter?” said she, smiling. “It is a glory to be so vanquished,” said he, heroically. “My sister declared the other night, after Julia had sung that barcarolle, that you were fatally smitten.” “And did you concur in the judgment?” asked he, tenderly. “At first, perhaps I did; but when I came to know you a little better--” “After our talk on the terrace?” “And even before that. When Julia was singing for you,--clearly for you, there was no disguise in the matter,--and I whispered you, 'What courage you have!' you said, 'I have been so often under fire'--from that instant I knew you.” “Knew me--how far?” “Enough to know that it was not to such captivations you would yield,--that you had seen a great deal of that sort of thing.” “Oh, have I not!” “Perhaps not always unscathed,” said she, with a sly glance. “I will scarcely go that far,” replied he, with the air of a man on the best possible terms with himself. “They say he is the best rider who has had the most falls. At least, it may be said that he who has met no disasters has encountered few perils.” “Now, my Lord, you can see the cottage completely. Is it not very pretty, and very picturesque, and is there not something very interesting--touching almost, in the thought of beauty and captivation--dwelling in this un-travelled wilderness?” He almost gave a little shudder, as his eye followed the line of the rugged mountain, till it blended with the bleak and shingly shore on which the waves were now washing in measured plash,--the one sound in the universal silence around. “Nothing but being desperately in love could make this solitude endurable,” said he at last. “Why not try that resource, my Lord? I could almost promise you that the young lady who lives yonder is quite ready to be adored and worshipped, and all that sort of thing; and it would be such a boon on the frosty days, when the ground is too hard for hunting, to have this little bit of romance awaiting you.”