'I did not mean to do so,' answered Ida, frankly; 'but perhaps I am not particularly warm-hearted. It is not in my nature to have many friends. I was very fond of Bessie Wendover, but then she is such a dear clinging thing, like a chubby child that puts its fat arms round your neck--an irresistible creature. She made me love her in spite of myself.' 'Why cannot I make you love me?' asked the fair Gertrude, with a languishing look. Ida could have alleged several reasons, but they would have been unflattering, so she only said feebly,-- 'Oh, I really like you very much, and I enjoy talking about German literature with you. Tell me more about Schiller--you know his poetry so well--and Jean Paul. I never can quite understand the German idolatry of him. He is too much in the clouds for me.' 'Too philosophic, you mean,' said Fräulein. 'I love philosophy.' '"Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, it helps not, it avails not,"' said a manly voice from the river close by, and Brian Wendover shot his boat in against the bank and leapt up from among the rushes like a river-god. Miss Palliser blushed crimson, but it hardly needed her blushes to convince Fräulein Wolf that this young stranger was a lover. Her sentimental soul thrilled at the idea of having plunged into the very midst of an intrigue. Ida's heart throbbed heavily, not so much with emotion at beholding her admirer as at the recollection of her visions last night. She tried to look calm and indifferent. 'How do you do?' she said, shaking hands with him. 'Mr. Wendover--Miss Wolf, our German mistress.' The Fräulein blushed, sniggered, and curtseyed. 'This gentleman is Bessie Wendover's first cousin, Fräulein,' said Ida, with an explanatory air. 'He was staying at The Knoll during the last part of my visit.' 'Yes, and you saw much of each other, and you became heart-friends,' gushed Miss Wolf, beaming benevolently at Brian with her pale green orbs. Brian answered in very fair German, sinking his voice a little so as only to be heard by the Fräulein, who was in raptures with this young stranger. So good-looking, so elegant, and speaking Hanoverian German. He told her that he had seen only too little of Ida at The Knoll, but enough to know that she was his 'Schicksal'; and then he took the Fräulein's hand and pressed it gently. 'I know you are our friend,' he said. 'Bis den Tod,' gasped Gertrude. After this no one felt any more restraint. The Fräulein dropped into her place of confidante as easily as possible. 'What brings you here again this afternoon, Mr. Wendover?' asked Ida, trying to sustain the idea of being unconcerned in the matter. 'My load-star; the same that drew me here yesterday, and will draw me here to-morrow.' 'You had better not come here any more; you have no idea what a terrible person Miss Pew is. These river-side fields are her own particular property. Didn't you see the board, "Trespassers will be prosecuted"?'