The girl on the cliff, young, beautiful, spirited, tender, yet feeling herself outside all this glow of happiness and excitement, “a mere looker-on in Venice,” as it were, stood there alone in the beautiful June morning, with her heart in her great dark eyes, “half-sunshine and half-shade,” watching the dusty, winding road to see the carriage coming up the hill with the happy lovers smiling into each other’s eyes. Without a pang of envy or resentment she watched and waited as for beautiful beings from another world--that world she longed to behold, to which she said she would run away if she were only a boy. And truth to tell, Gipsy actually did look boyish in her bloomer suit of dark-blue cloth, with tan-colored leggings on her shapely nether limbs, and her little blue cap set rakishly one side on the cloud of flying black ringlets that framed an enchantingly lovely face, arch and spirited and winning, with rose-red pouting lips and dimpled cheeks. A dangerous rival to the blond Lelia, if only she had not been poor and despised. CHAPTER II. I LOVED YOU BEST OF ALL. “Oh, they are coming! I see the victoria climbing the hill!” cried Gipsy, eagerly craning her slender neck forward, her large, dark eyes sparkling with excitement, and her canine companion, a big, handsome St. Bernard, uttered a sharp yelp of joy in sympathy. It was true. The fine, new vehicle, bought by Miss Willoughby expressly to add to the pleasure of her honored guests, was climbing the hill, drawn by two handsome, well-matched bay horses, their silver mounted harness glittering in the golden sunshine. Laurie Willoughby, handsome and debonair, held the reins, and his beautiful sweetheart, the blond Lelia, sat beside him, frowning in real discontent as she exclaimed impatiently: “To think of having to waste a whole summer month at the lonesome old Crags, when we might be at Newport or the Pier! I declare I never would have sacrificed myself so if it had not been for Aunt Cy’s money! But mama is always preaching at me that I must honey the old maid up, or she might not leave me her fortune.” “Has Aunt Cy promised to make you her heiress?” inquired her lover carelessly. “No, but mama says if I cut my cards straight, she will be sure to leave it to me, or both of us, Laurie, for, of course, you are as near of kin to her as I am.” “But if she does not choose to leave us a penny, Lelia, we need not worry, we will have enough of our own, anyway,” Laurie answered placidly. But Lelia frowned at his indifference, crying out impetuously: “Oh, no--no, Laurie, one can never have enough money! Papa always said so--he was fond of saying that money is power, and both my parents always set their hearts on having me inherit Aunt Cy’s great fortune, that is as much, you know, as yours and mine put together, Laurie.” His large, clear, brown eyes turned on her in keen rebuke. “Oh, Lelia, I hate to have you appear so mercenary!” he sighed, in a reproachful tone.