She was the loveliest girl that he had ever seen. Lillian Linton, and the startling discovery which Rupert had made regarding her feelings toward himself just before leaving Heathdale, were forgotten, and he surrendered himself to the charm of her society, never questioning to what it might lead, or what his feelings might be when the trip was ended, and they should go their different ways. But others began to consider these things if the youthful couple did not. Older and more experienced eyes could see that he was fast learning to love the charming girl, and that she was also yielding her young heart, with its first strong passion, to the handsome Englishman. Mr. and Miss Knight could not fail to perceive the danger that lurked in the pleasant companionship, and, while they liked the frank, manly fellow uncommonly well, they were troubled at the thought of anything serious growing out of it, while Virgie was in their care. “Robert, I am afraid there is mischief brewing, and I feel very uneasy about it,” Miss Knight remarked to her brother one day, as Rupert and Virgie stole away together to a corner of the parlor in the hotel where they were stopping to look over a collection of views, which the young man had recently purchased. Mr. Knight shot a keen, anxious look at them. “I’ve been a little fearful of it myself, Stella,” he replied, gravely; “but I do not know as we can prevent it.” “We must prevent it,” returned his sister, firmly. “We must do our duty, Robert; it would not be right to allow that dear child to become entangled in a love affair while she is away from her mother. I should never forgive myself, and she would never forgive us, if any harm should befall her while she is in our care.” “I cannot think there is anything wrong about the young chap,” returned Mr. Knight, his eyes resting thoughtfully on the handsome face looking so smilingly into Virgie’s; “he seems like a fine, manly fellow and has no bad habits; he does not even smoke, which is a rare virtue among young men nowadays.” “But we know nothing about him or his family,” persisted the lady; “we do not even know from what portion of England he came; at least I do not.” “Neither do I,” said her brother; “I have never questioned him and he seems very modest about talking of himself; but if Virgie were my daughter—and you know that I love her almost as well as if she were—I do not think I should feel very much alarmed to have her fall in love with as noble a specimen of manhood as young Hamilton appears to be.”