“I am afraid it will be necessary soon,” replied Maurice, glancing at Helena. “Ah, you think so? Well, remember my desire about you being my successor, Maurice. I wish your answer shortly.” “You will have it as soon as I hear from England.” “Well, that will be soon. I have a boat waiting at Syra for your letters, so I trust you will your reply, and Crispin his yacht, shortly.” “Then you still anticipate trouble?” “I do! Remember we have one possessing the fatal name of Helena here. She is the firebrand, as you well know; but we will talk of these things another time, my son. Meanwhile, let us come and look at the shooting.” As Maurice turned to accompany the old man, he felt a soft touch on his arm, and, on looking down, saw that Helena, with an expression of pity on her beautiful face, was looking at him. “Are you hurt, Maurice?” she said anxiously. “No, not at all!” he replied, laughing. “Dick gave me a nasty one on the nose, which is rather painful, but nothing to speak of. But to-morrow, I will be such a sight, as you will shudder to look on me.” “I would rather see a brave man disfigured, than a handsome coward,” retorted Helena, with disdain, casting a side look at the distant form of Caliphronas. “Oh, and you think Caliphronas is”— “Very nice,” interrupted Helena cruelly. “Yes, he is delightful!” “I believe you are very fond of Caliphronas,” said Maurice, displeased at this speech. “I don’t think you are, Maurice,” pouted the girl, looking down. “Assuredly I’m not, and to prove this, I will do my best to beat him at the high jump!” “If you do,” said Helena gayly, “I will give you a rose.” “Of what color, you coquette,—red for love, or white for silence?” “Neither! Yellow for jealousy!” She ran away after her father with a silvery laugh, in which Maurice, in spite of his vexation, could not help joining, as the charming coquetry of this young girl was delightful enough to fascinate him, and annoying enough to pique his pride, of which Mr. Roylands had no small share. “She is the loveliest woman in the world,” he said to himself, sauntering towards the shooting party, “and if I win her I will be the most fortunate of beings. But I am afraid she is a coquette, or else it is a woman’s way of provoking love. Hullo, Dick! is this you?” he added aloud, as the boatswain, considerably battered, approached him. “I’m afraid I’ve knocked you up a bit.” “Not a bit of it, sir,” replied Dick, heartily grasping the young Englishman’s extended hand. “I’ll be as right as a trivet to-morrow; but, my word, sir, I shouldn’t like to meet you without the gloves!” “I don’t know so much about that, Dick. You were a pretty tough antagonist, I can tell you!” “So Zoe thought, sir, when she saw me,” grinned Dick, displaying his white teeth; “she thought it was Gurt, sir!” “And was sorry it wasn’t, perhaps?” “I’m blest if she was, Mr. Roylands! I’m the white-haired boy in that quarter, sir.” “And Gurt?”