e had opened over us as we sat, that passers through
East Quarriers might not observe our marks of affection, forgetting that
our screen must attract more attention than our persons.

'When the whole dream came to an end through her father leaving the
island, I thought my Well-Beloved had gone for ever (being then in the
unpractised condition of Adam at sight of the first sunset). But she had
not. Laura had gone for ever, but not my Beloved.

'For some months after I had done crying for the flaxen-haired edition
of her, my Love did not reappear. Then she came suddenly, unexpectedly,
in a situation I should never have predicted. I was standing on the
kerbstone of the pavement in Budmouth-Regis, outside the Preparatory
School, looking across towards the sea, when a middle-aged gentleman on
horseback, and beside him a young lady, also mounted, passed down the
street. The girl turned her head, and--possibly because I was gaping
at her in awkward admiration, or smiling myself--smiled at me. Having
ridden a few paces, she looked round again and smiled.

'It was enough, more than enough, to set me on fire. I understood in a
moment the information conveyed to me by my emotion--the Well-Beloved
had reappeared. This second form in which it had pleased her to take up
her abode was quite a grown young woman's, darker in complexion than the
first. Her hair, also worn in a knot, was of an ordinary brown, and so,
I think, were her eyes, but the niceties of her features were not to be
gathered so cursorily. However, there sat my coveted one, re-embodied;
and, bidding my schoolmates a hasty farewell as soon as I could do so
without suspicion, I hurried along the Esplanade in the direction she
and her father had ridden. But they had put their horses to a canter,
and I could not see which way they had gone. In the greatest misery
I turned down a side street, but was soon elevated to a state of
excitement by seeing the same pair galloping towards me. Flushing up to
my hair, I stopped and heroically faced her as she passed. She smiled
again, but, alas! upon my Love's cheek there was no blush of passion for
me.'

Pierston paused, and drank from his glass, as he lived for a brief
moment in the scene he had conjured up. Somers reserved his comments,
and Jocelyn continued--

'That afternoon I idled about the streets, looking for her in vain. When
I next saw one of the boys who had been with me at her first passing
I stealthily reminded him