d leave her to amuse herself; only pray don't let her
get into any mischief by way of enjoying her liberty, for she fears
nothing and is fond of experiments."

"I'll do my best," replied Warwick, with an air of resignation.

Having slung the hammock and seen Sylvia safely into it, the climbers
departed, leaving her to enjoy the luxury of motion. For half an hour
she swung idly, looking up into the green pavilion overhead, where many
insect families were busy with their small joys and cares, or out over
the still landscape basking in the warmth of a cloudless afternoon. Then
she opened a book Mark had brought for his own amusement, and began to
read as intently as her companion, who leaned against the boulder slowly
turning his pages, with leafy shadows flickering over his uncovered head
and touching it with alternate sun and shade. The book proved
interesting, and Sylvia was rapidly skimming into the heart of the
story, when an unguarded motion caused her swing to slope perilously to
one side, and in saving herself she lost her book. This produced a
predicament, for being helped into a hammock and getting out alone are
two very different things. She eyed the distance from her nest to the
ground, and fancied it had been made unusually great to keep her
stationary. She held fast with one hand and stretched downward with the
other, but the book insolently flirted its leaves just out of reach.
She took a survey of Warwick; he had not perceived her plight, and she
felt an unwonted reluctance to call for help, because he did not look
like one used to come and go at a woman's bidding. After several
fruitless essays she decided to hazard an ungraceful descent; and,
gathering herself up, was about to launch boldly out, when Warwick
cried, "Stop!" in a tone that nearly produced the catastrophe he wished
to avert. Sylvia subsided, and coming up he lifted the book, glanced at
the title, then keenly at the reader.

"Do you like this?"

"So far very much."

"Are you allowed to read what you choose?"

"Yes, sir. That is Mark's choice, however; I brought no book."

"I advise you to skim it into the river; it is not a book for you."

Sylvia caught a glimpse of the one he had been reading himself, and
impelled by a sudden impulse to see what would come of it, she answered
with a look as keen as his own--

"You disapprove of my book; would you recommend yours?"

"In this case, yes; for in one you will find much falsehood in pur