"Never mind," said he, ambiguously; "I'll tell you another time. Don't you find it dull here?" "Not at all! Why should I? There is always plenty to do. I swim and ride, and fish and shoot. I go across the moors with Parson Jarner; and I visit Miss Linisfarne two or three times a week. Besides, there are many things in the pine woods to give me pleasure." "What kind of things?" "Birds, and beasts, and spiders, and flowers. If you have sharp eyes, you can see all manner of queer things." "A female Jefferies!" thought Dan; then aloud, "You must teach me your woodcraft. I cannot see the marvels you describe." "How strange! Yes, I'll teach you with pleasure. I shall come to your dell and look at your caravan. Now we must part, Dan. My father expects me home." "You won't forget your promise," said he, clasping her hand. "No; I'll come when I can. Goodbye, Dan." "Goodbye, Meg." And then they parted. But one, at least, looked forward eagerly to their next meeting. Needless to say, that one was Dan. CHAPTER VIII. THE RECLUSE. "The third meeting will be fatal," said Dan to himself as he climbed the hill. "At the first I liked her beauty; now I am charmed with her innocence and candour. When I meet her for the third time, it may be a case of love." It was indeed astonishing how persistently the face and speech of Meg haunted his mind. She was so unconscious of her own beauty, so free from affectation, that he could not help admiring her simplicity of character. He was not of a particularly inflammable nature, and hitherto had shut his heart to the allurements of the other sex. The ladies with whom he was acquainted, though refined in every sense of the word, annoyed him by their persistent artificiality and their insincerity. But this wild rose was free from such taints, and in her conversation she displayed perfect candour. To Dan she was like the inhabitant of another planet, and she had for him all the charm of novelty. Without being a prophet, he could foresee that a few weeks in her company would chain him for ever to her side. She was ignorant of her power to do this, and in such unconsciousness lay a goodly portion of her fascination. In sober earnest, the girl puzzled him. By her own confession, she haunted the hills from morning till night, and by rights should be an uncouth creature, a female barbarian. Yet her accent and manners were both refined, and she had an evident acquaintance with literature, though not of the newest. Dan supposed that she owed such culture and polish as she possessed to Miss Linisfarne; but if that lady took an interest in her, he could not understand why she permitted the girl to roam the moors and woods at will. It was certain that Meg was in no way conscious of her own beauty, or she would have taken better care of her appearance, her dress, and her complexion. She apparently cared nothing for these things, and let the sun brown her face and the brambles scratch her