A white sateen dress embroidered in black and red, and a flapping leghorn hat tied down gypsy style with a crimson ribbon, was a picturesque costume, but not orthodox as a yachting costume at Ryde. Bessie had a provincial French air in spite of her English face, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh perhaps regretted that she was not more suitably equipped for making her _debut_ in his company. He had a prejudice against peculiarity in dress, and knew that it was a terrible thing to be out of the fashion and to run the gauntlet of bold eyes on Ryde pier. At the seaside the world is idle, and has nothing to do but stare and speculate. Bessie had beauty enough to be stared at for that alone, but it was not her beauty that attracted most remark; it was her cavalier and the singularity of her attire. Poor child! with her own industrious fingers had she lavishly embroidered that heathen embroidery. The gentlemen were not critically severe; the ladies looked at her, and looked again for her escort's sake, and wondered how this prodigiously fine gentleman came to have foregathered with so outlandish a blushing girl; for Bessie, when she perceived herself an object of curious observation, blushed furiously under the unmitigated fire of their gaze. And most heartily did she wish herself back again on board the Foam. Mr. Cecil Burleigh had friends and acquaintances everywhere, and some very dear friends at this moment at Ryde. That was why he ended his yachting there. As he advanced with Bessie up the pier every minute there was an arrest, a brisk inquiry, and a reply. At last a halt that might have been a _rendezvous_ occurred, finding of seats ensued, with general introductions, and then a settling down on pretence of watching the yachts through a glass. It was a very pretty spectacle, and Bessie was left at liberty to enjoy it, and also to take note of the many gay and fashionable folk who enrich and embellish Ryde in the season; for Mr. Cecil Burleigh was entirely engrossed with another person. The party they had joined consisted of a very thin old gentleman, spruce, well brushed, and well cared for; of a languid, pale lady, some thirty years younger, who was his wife; and of two girls, their daughters. It was one of these daughters who absorbed all Mr. Cecil Burleigh's attention, and Bessie recognized her at once as that most beautiful young lady to whom he had been devoted at the Fairfield wedding. His meeting with her had quite transfigured him. He looked infinitely glad, an expression that was reflected on her countenance in a lovely light of joy. It was not necessary to be a witch to discern that there was an understanding between these two--that they loved one another. Bessie saw it and felt sympathetic, and was provoked at the recollection of her foolish conceit in being perplexed by the gentleman's elaborate courtesies to herself.