nge. He answered: "You would see that I want a
little encouragement."

"From _me?_"

"Yes--if you please."

Blanche looked back over her shoulder. The summer-house stood on an
eminence, approached by steps. The players on the lawn beneath were
audible, but not visible. Any one of them might appear, unexpectedly, at
a moment's notice. Blanche listened. There was no sound of approaching
footsteps--there was a general hush, and then another bang of the mallet
on the ball and then a clapping of hands. Sir Patrick was a privileged
person. He had been allowed, in all probability, to try again; and he
was succeeding at the second effort. This implied a reprieve of some
seconds. Blanche looked back again at Arnold.

"Consider yourself encouraged," she whispered; and instantly added, with
the ineradicable female instinct of self-defense, "within limits!"

Arnold made a last plunge--straight to the bottom, this time.

"Consider yourself loved," he burst out, "without any limits at all."

It was all over--the words were spoken--he had got her by the hand.
Again the perversity of the tender passion showed itself more strongly
than ever. The confession which Blanche had been longing to hear, had
barely escaped her lover's lips before Blanche protested against it! She
struggled to release her hand. She formally appealed to Arnold to let
her go.

Arnold only held her the tighter.

"Do try to like me a little!" he pleaded. "I am so fond of _you!_"

Who was to resist such wooing as this?--when you were privately fond of
him yourself, remember, and when you were certain to be interrupted in
another moment! Blanche left off struggling, and looked up at her young
sailor with a smile.

"Did you learn this method of making love in the merchant-service?" she
inquired, saucily.

Arnold persisted in contemplating his prospects from the serious point
of view.

"I'll go back to the merchant-service," he said, "if I have made you
angry with me."

Blanche administered another dose of encouragement.

"Anger, Mr. Brinkworth, is one of the bad passions," she answered,
demurely. "A young lady who has been properly brought up has no bad
passions."

There was a sudden cry from the players on the lawn--a cry for "Mr.
Brinkworth." Blanche tried to push him out. Arnold was immovable.

"Say something to encourage me before I go," he pleaded. "One word will
do. Say, Yes."

Blanche shook her head. Now she had got him, the temptation to