hout?" He finds it is all wrong, and
then comes the tussle--'

'Do they marry and live happily?'

'Who? O, the supposed pair. I think he said--well, I really forget what
he said.'

'That _is_ stupid of you!' said the young lady with dismay.

'Yes.'

'But he's a satirist--I don't think I care about him now.'

'There you are just wrong. He is not. He is, as I believe, an impulsive
fellow who has been made to pay the penalty of his rashness in some love
affair.'

Thus ended the dialogue of Thursday, but Cytherea read the verses again
in private. On Friday her brother remarked that Springrove had informed
him he was going to leave Mr. Gradfield's in a fortnight to push his
fortunes in London.

An indescribable feeling of sadness shot through Cytherea's heart.
Why should she be sad at such an announcement as that, she thought,
concerning a man she had never seen, when her spirits were elastic
enough to rebound after hard blows from deep and real troubles as if she
had scarcely known them? Though she could not answer this question, she
knew one thing, she was saddened by Owen's news.

4. JULY THE TWENTY-FIRST

A very popular local excursion by steamboat to Lulstead Cove was
announced through the streets of Budmouth one Thursday morning by
the weak-voiced town-crier, to start at six o'clock the same day. The
weather was lovely, and the opportunity being the first of the kind
offered to them, Owen and Cytherea went with the rest.

They had reached the Cove, and had walked landward for nearly an hour
over the hill which rose beside the strand, when Graye recollected that
two or three miles yet further inland from this spot was an interesting
mediaeval ruin. He was already familiar with its characteristics through
the medium of an archaeological work, and now finding himself so close
to the reality, felt inclined to verify some theory he had formed
respecting it. Concluding that there would be just sufficient time for
him to go there and return before the boat had left the shore, he parted
from Cytherea on the hill, struck downwards, and then up a heathery
valley.

She remained on the summit where he had left her till the time of his
expected return, scanning the details of the prospect around. Placidly
spread out before her on the south was the open Channel, reflecting a
blue intenser by many shades than that of the sky overhead, and dotted
in the foreground by half-a-dozen small craft of contrasting rig, their