letters to write."

"I think he has gone to ask a friend of his to dine with us," said his
mother. "I saw him gallop off half an hour ago. We are going to be very
quiet to-day that you may have a chance to rest; tomorrow guests have
been invited to meet you. Stephen thought that this evening you might
like a sail,--unless you have had too much of the water?" And she turned
inquiringly to Lady Dacre.

"Oh, no," cried her ladyship. "I should be delighted. The moon fulls
to-night Am I right, Temple?"

A few minutes later Edmonson and Bulchester having strolled down to the
beach confronted one another there in silence, until the sound of a wave
breaking seemed to rouse their surprise into speech.

"Edmonson," exclaimed the smaller man, "for once you are at fault. You
did not describe her at all."

"The--!" cried Edmonson with a black look. "I was never so amazed in my
life. What has got into the girl? She is a different creature. That
present air of hers would take in London; better even than in this
out-of-the-world hole, it would be more appreciated. And what thousands
she has to carry it off well, or I ought to say, to carry it on well.
That good-for-nothing," he added, "does not even understand his luck."
There was an undertone in his voice which gave the bitter laugh with
which he tried to hide it an intensity that made Bulchester look at him
anxiously.

"You don't mean that you admire her so much as that?" he asked. Edmonson
laughed again.

"My admiration of any woman will not injure my digestion. I believe you
know my ideas on that subject. But such a figure for the head of one's
table, and such golden accompaniments to her presentablity--all mine,
you know, or to be mine, and here this young lordship steps in between.
Lordship; indeed! he thinks himself no less than a duke by his airs. But
I--." He stopped, and ground his teeth to swallow his rage, and his face
was so lowering that the other cried in trepidation:

"What are you going to do, Edmonson? Nothing,--nothing--uncomfortable,
you know, I hope?"

Edmonson turned slowly upon him with the blackness of his look
lightening into a smile as different from mirth as the brassy gleam
behind a thundercloud is from sunshine. "What concerns your lordship?"
he asked contemptuously. "Do you imagine that I shall forget my
station?"

"Or your position as guest?"

"Or my 'position as guest?' No, indeed," sneered his listener. "What has
come over you, Bulchester