how he lived.

"There are your friends the Delameres," cried Glenville to Thornton, as
we all lounged down one afternoon, not long after our arrival, to the
parade, where the little discordant German band was playing. "Looking
for you, too, I think," added he.

"I am sure they are not looking at all," said Thornton.

"Why, not now," said Glenville; "their books have suddenly become
interesting, but I vow I saw Mrs. Delamere's spyglass turned full upon us
a minute ago." We all four stepped from the parade upon the rocks, and
approached the Delameres' party, who were seated on rugs and shawls
spread upon the huge dry rocks overlooking the deep, clear water which
lapped underneath with a gentle and regular plash and sucking sound. It
was a brilliant day. Not a cloud was in the sky, and the blue-green seas
lay basking in the sunshine. A brisk but gentle air had begun to crisp
the top of the water, making it sparkle and bubble; and there was just
visible a small silver cord of foam on the coast line of dark crags. A
white sail or a brown, here and there, dotted about the space of ocean,
gleamed in the light of the noon-day sun. Porpoises rolled and gamboled
in the bay, and the round heads of two or three swimmers from the bathing
cove appeared like corks upon the surface of the water. Half lost in the
hazy horizon, a dim fairy island hung between sky and ocean; while
overhead flew the milk-white birds, whose presence inland is said to
presage stormy weather.

"What was Miss Delamere reading?"

"Oh, only Hallam's _Constitutional History_."

"Great Heavens!" whispered Glenville to me, "think of that!"

"Do you like it?" asked Thornton.

"Well, I can't say I do, but I suppose I ought. My mother wanted me to
bring it."

"I think it must be very dull," said Thornton, "though I have never tried
it. I have just finished Kingsley's _Two Years Ago_. It is awfully
good. May I lend it to you?"

"Oh, I do so like a good novel when I can get it, but I am afraid I
mayn't."

"What is that, Flo?" asked her mother. "You know I do not approve of
novels, except, of course, Sir Walter's. My daughters, Mr. Thornton,
have, I hope, been brought up very differently from most young ladies. I
always encourage them to read such works as are likely to tend to the
improvement of their understanding and the cultivation of their taste. I
always choose their books for them."

"Nonsense, my dear," said Mr. Delamere, "if Mr. Th