wald now sees in Sir Donald Randolph less to admire. Mentally
arraigning this aristocrat for his poor taste, he blames the silly
father for having such a daughter. Finally, deciding not to be unduly
harsh in his judgment, as there might have been mitigating
circumstances, he is feeling a sense of self-approval, when voices are
heard.

Looking from the window, he sees that pictured ideal coming up the
graveled walk, clasping the hand of Sir Donald, talking as though time
were covenant essence, with forfeiture imminent.

At once all resentment vanishes. This noble father is promptly
reinstated.

Oswald now feels an impulse to apologize for his former verdict and
judgment, but decides, as neither had been announced, to suppress both.

His pleased fancy pictures pleasant moonlight strolls, long rides on
horseback, frequent sails upon a wooded lake, numerous tete-a-tetes in
secluded bowers, a sweet girl's tender, wistful smiles, a whispered
proposal, with happy, conditional acceptance, soon followed by a grand
marriage ceremony.

For nearly an hour little matters kept Sir Donald from visiting his
guest.

Oswald chafed under this prolonged neglect. Why should he, Oswald
Langdon, with assured honors waiting acceptance, receive such shabby
treatment? To leave promptly would be showing proper spirit.

However, there is little hazard of such commendable spiritual
manifestation.

Strange, Miss Randolph has no more curiosity and shows so little
interest.

Soon Sir Donald called, and asked if Oswald felt able to go downstairs.

"Fully, thank you!" is the animated response.

Leaning on Sir Donald's arm, the young man descends, and enters the
family sitting-room, where he is presented to Esther Randolph.

Habitually at ease in exchange of formal social greetings, Oswald feels
a slight tremor of embarrassment upon his presentation to this beautiful
blushing girl. Such mixture of childish curiosity, impulsive girlish
candor, and unconscious grace, with hesitating modesty, womanly dignity,
and restraints of good breeding, all modulated by eye and accent,
blending with expressive facial lights and shades, is to Oswald a new
creation.

The look of questioning admiration is mutual, each evidently seeing in
the other an interesting enigma.

Wonderfully fascinated by this girl of twenty, Oswald spends a
delightful evening. So absorbed is he, that bodily pain and Sir Donald
are in abeyance. This fine specimen of mature, aris