ndar says the eighth September now."

"But I arrived on the sixth," he said. "Mind that, Nell, whatever
happens. You saw it with your own eyes. It may be of consequence to
remember."

"Of what consequence could it be?" said Elinor, wondering.

"One can never tell. The only thing is I arrived on the sixth--that you
know. And, Nell, my darling, supposing any fellow should inquire too
closely into my movements, you'll back me up, won't you, and agree in
everything I say?"

"Who should inquire into your movements? There is no one here who would
be so impertinent, Phil."

"Oh," he said, "there is never any telling how impertinent people may
be."

"And what is there in your movements that any one dare inquire about? I
hope you are not ashamed of coming to see me."

"That is just what is the saving of me, Nell. I can't explain what I
mean now, but I will later on. Only mind you don't contradict me if we
should meet any inquisitive person. I arrived on the sixth, and you'll
back me like my true love in everything I say."

"As far as--as I know, Phil."

"Oh, we must have no conditions. You must stand by me in everything I
say."

CHAPTER IX.

This day in the copse was one that Elinor never forgot. At the moment it
seemed to her the most blissful period of all her life. There had been
times in which she had longed that Phil knew more and cared more for the
objects which had always been most familiar, and told for most in her
own existence--although it is true that at first his very ignorance,
real or assumed, his careless way of treating all intellectual subjects,
his indifference to books and pictures, and even nature, had amused and
pleased her, giving a piquancy to the physical strength and enjoying
manhood, the perpetual activity and state of doing something in which he
was. It was not a kind of life which she had ever known before, and it
dazzled her with its apparent freedom and fulness, the variety in it,
the constant movement, the crowd of occupations and people. To her who
had been used to finding a great deal of her amusement in reading, in
sketching (not very well), in playing (tunes), and generally practising
with very moderate success arts for which she had no individual
enthusiasm, it had seemed like a new life to be plunged into the society
of horses and dogs, into the active world which was made up of a round
of amusements, race meetings, days on the river, follies of every
conceivable kind,