was apparently watching his every
movement from those dark-blue eyes under the straw hat.

He took off his cap and went to her, and told her politely how amiable
had been his intentions, and how stringent the game laws were, and
begged her to believe that he intended no discourtesy to her community
when he warned them against the wholesale destruction of the trout.

He had a pleasant, low voice, very attractive to women; she smiled and
listened, offering no comment.

"And I want to assure you," he ended, "that we at the club will always
respect your boundaries as we know you will respect ours. I fear one of
our keepers was needlessly rude last night--from his own account. He's
an old man; he supposes that all people know the game laws."

Lansing paused; she bent her head a trifle. After a silence he started
on, saying, "Good-morning," very pleasantly.

"I wish you would sit down and talk to me," said the girl, without
raising her head.

Lansing was too astonished to reply; she turned her head partly towards
him as though listening. Something in the girl's attitude arrested his
attention; he involuntarily dropped on one knee to see her face. It was
in shadow.

"I want to tell you who I am," she said, without looking at him. "I am
Eily O'Hara."

Lansing received the communication with perfect gravity. "Your father
owned this land?" he asked.

"Yes; I own it now, ... I think."

He was silent, curious, amused.

"I think I do," she repeated; "I have never seen my father's will."

"Doubtless your lawyer has it," he suggested.

"No; I have it. It is in a steel box; I have the key hanging around my
neck inside my clothes. I have never opened the box."

"But why do you not open the box?" asked Lansing, smiling.

She hesitated; color crept into her cheeks. "I have waited," she said;
"I was alone; my father said--that--that--" She stammered; the rich
flush deepened to her neck.

Lansing, completely nonplussed, sat watching the wonderful beauty of
that young face.

"My father told me to open it only when I found an honest man in the
world," she said, slowly.

The undertone of pathos in her voice drove the smile from Lansing's
lips.

"Have you found the world so dishonest?" he asked, seriously.

"I don't know; I came from Notre Dame de Sainte Croix last year. Mr.
Munn was my guardian; ... said he was; ... I suppose he is."

Lansing looked at her in sympathy.

"I am not one of the community," she said. "I