d too religious; she cannot understand an artist's
life. It does not frighten me," she added grandly; "I am an artist's
daughter."

With that speech, Dick consoled himself for his imposture; she was not
deceived so grossly after all; and then if a fraud, was not the fraud
piety itself?--and what could be more obligatory than to keep alive in
the heart of a daughter that filial trust and honour which, even
although misplaced, became her like a jewel of the mind? There might be
another thought, a shade of cowardice, a selfish desire to please; poor
Dick was merely human; and what would you have had him do?

CHAPTER IV

ESTHER ON THE FILIAL RELATION

A month later Dick and Esther met at the stile beside the cross roads;
had there been any one to see them but the birds and summer insects, it
would have been remarked that they met after a different fashion from
the day before. Dick took her in his arms, and their lips were set
together for a long while. Then he held her at arm's length, and they
looked straight into each other's eyes.

"Esther!" he said,--you should have heard his voice!

"Dick!" said she.

"My darling!"

It was some time before they started for their walk; he kept an arm
about her, and their sides were close together as they walked; the sun,
the birds, the west wind running among the trees, a pressure, a look,
the grasp tightening round a single finger, these things stood them in
lieu of thought and filled their hearts with joy. The path they were
following led them through a wood of pine trees carpeted with heather
and blueberry, and upon this pleasant carpet, Dick, not without some
seriousness, made her sit down.

"Esther!" he began, "there is something you ought to know. You know my
father is a rich man, and you would think, now that we love each other,
we might marry when we pleased. But I fear, darling, we may have long to
wait, and shall want all our courage."

"I have courage for anything," she said, "I have all I want; with you
and my father, I am so well off, and waiting is made so happy, that I
could wait a lifetime and not weary."

He had a sharp pang at the mention of the Admiral. "Hear me out," he
continued. "I ought to have told you this before; but it is a thought I
shrink from; if it were possible, I should not tell you even now. My
poor father and I are scarce on speaking terms."

"Your father," she repeated, turning pale.

"It must sound strange to you; but yet I c