ht to get into a rage."

"I think you had every right," Gratian said. "He is too provoking;
worse, since he has been so much in London, and welcomed, so we hear, by
some boon companions of His Majesty. But do not let us talk of him; let
us talk of you. No; I don't choose to walk so near the edge of the
rocks, if you do. Tell me about the people where you have been;--tell me
about the place. Is it a fine house, or a nice big farm? Fair Acres is a
pretty name, and are there no fair maidens as well as acres? Come,
Gilbert, you were not always so cross to me." This was said with a
gentle pressure on his arm.

"I don't mean to be cross; but there is nothing at Fair Acres that would
interest you. You know about poor Melville already."

"I have heard of him," she said, "and of your taking upon yourself to
reform him. Well, who are the others?"

"There are two fine boys, who want to be sailors, but they are too old,
I am afraid, for the navy; they are thirteen."

"They--both thirteen!"

"Yes, they are twins. Then there is a lame boy, Piers, a year younger.
And oh, I forgot! a quiet, silent fellow, Ralph, he is sixteen."

"And does the great Melville, come next to him?"

"Two little girls died. But there is a daughter of seventeen."

"Ah!" exclaimed Gratian; "I knew there was a daughter. Did I not tell
you I knew you were in love? Tell me her name. Come! We are such old
friends. Surely you might tell me."

"Really, Gratian, I will tell you Miss Falconer's name if you so
particularly wish to hear it. I--"

"I will guess it. Let me see. I love my love with an A, because she is
amiable, and I took her to the sign of the Archer, and fed her with
apples, and her name is Angela. Not right? Well, I will go through the
alphabet, and I must surely be right at last. I love my love with a
B----."

"Pray stop," Gilbert said. "I don't feel in a jesting mood, somehow."

"Not ready to wear a cap and bells? Poor Gilbert. You feel more like
sitting under a willow tree and singing 'Poor Mary Anne.'"

"Which is our house?" Gilbert asked.

"Not that one; not up the steps. But you shall not go in till you tell
me her name."

"She is called Joyce," Gilbert said, in despair.

"Ah! then you allow there is only one _she_ for you in all the world,
and _she_ is called Joyce."

"Now, I do hope you are satisfied," Gilbert said.

She laughed that loud, ringing laugh, as she ran upstairs before him.
"Oh! of course I am satisfied," she