"My master desired me to take you to the lower terrace, sir, if you didn't find it too 'ot," he said, solemnly. And Stretton said nothing more. The lower terrace? It was not the terrace by the house; it was one at the further end of the garden, and, as he soon saw, it was upon a cliff overlooking the sea. It was overshadowed by the foliage of some great trees, and commanded a magnificent view of the coast, broken here and there into inlets and tiny bays, beyond which stretched "the deep sapphire of the sea." A slight haze hung over the distance, through which the forms of mountain peaks and tiny islets could yet be clearly seen. The wash of the water at the foot of the cliff, the chirp of the cicadas, were the only sounds to be heard. And here, on a low, wooden bench, in the deepest and coolest shade afforded by the trees, Stretton found--not Mr. Heron, as he had expected, but--Elizabeth. He bowed, hesitating and confused for the moment, but she gave him her white hand with a friendly look which set him at his ease, just as it had done upon his entrance to the villa on the previous evening. "Sit down, Mr. Stretton," she said, "will you not? My uncle has gone up to the house for a paper, or a book, or something, and I undertook to entertain you until he came back. Have we not a lovely view? And one is always cool here under the trees, now that the heats of summer are past. I think you will find it a good place to read in when you are tired of giving lessons--that is, if you are going to be so kind as to give lessons to our troublesome boys." She had looked at him once, and in that glance she read what would have taken Mr. Heron's obtuse male intellect weeks to comprehend. She saw the young man's slight embarrassment and the touch of pride mingling with it; she noticed the spareness of outline and the varying colour which suggested recent illness, or delicacy of health; above all, she observed the expression of his face, high, noble, refined, as it had always been, but darkened by some inexplicable shadow from the past, some trace of sorrow which could never be altogether swept away. Seeing all these things, she knew instinctively that the calmest and quietest way of speaking would suit him best, and she felt that she was right when he answered, in rather low and shaken tones-- "Pardon me. It is for Mr. Heron to decide; not for me." "I think my uncle has decided," said Elizabeth. "He asked me to ascertain when you would be willing to give the boys their first lesson." "He said that, now? Since he saw me?" cried Stretton, as if in uncontrollable surprise. Elizabeth's lips straightened themselves for a moment. Then she turned her face towards the young man, with the look of mingled dignity and candour which had already impressed him so deeply, and said, gently-- "Is there anything to be surprised at in that?"