uous, nobler and more passionate
than the ordinary.

"Very well," said Simon. "But let me at least appeal to your father.
He doesn't know. . . ."

"There is nothing he doesn't know, Simon. And it is precisely because
our love displeases him and displeases my step-mother even more that
he wants to get me away from you."

"I insist on this, Isabel."

"Speak to him, then, Simon, and, if he refuses, don't try to see me
to-day. To-morrow, a little before twelve o'clock, I shall be at
Newhaven. Wait for me by the gangway of the steamer."

He had something more to say:

"Have you seen the _Argus_?"

"Yes."

"You're not frightened of the crossing?"

She smiled. He bowed over her hand and kissed it and said no more.

Lord Bakefield, a peer of the United Kingdom, had been married first
to the aforesaid great-grand-daughter of George III. and secondly to
the Duchess of Faulconbridge. He was the owner, in his own right or
his wife's, of country-houses, estates and town properties which
enabled him to travel from Brighton to Folkestone almost without
leaving his own domains. He was the distant player who had lingered on
the links; and his figure, now less remote, was appearing and
disappearing according to the lay of the ground. Simon decided to
profit by the occasion and to go to meet him.

He set out resolutely. In spite of the young girl's warning and though
he had learnt, from her and from Edward Rolleston, something of Lord
Bakefield's true character and of his prejudices, he was influenced by
the memory of the cordial welcome which Isabel's father had invariably
accorded him hitherto.

This time again the grip of his hand was full of geniality. Lord
Bakefield's face--a round face, too fat for his thin and lanky body,
too florid and a little commonplace, though not lacking in
intelligence--lit up with satisfaction.

"Well, young man, I suppose you have come to say good-bye? You have
heard that we are leaving?"

"I have, Lord Bakefield; and that is why I should like a few words
with you."

"Quite, quite! You have my attention."

He bent over the tee, building up, with his two hands, a little mound
of sand on whose summit he placed his ball; then, drawing himself up,
he accepted the brassy which one of his caddies held out to him and
took his stand, perfectly poised, with his left foot a little advanced
and his knees very slightly bent. Two or three trial swings, to assure
himself of the precise direction;