er terrace, until the upper
stretches of its woodlands showed clear against the evening sky.

But Mistress Kate Bonnet now gazed steadily down the stream, beyond the
town and the bridge, and paid no more attention to the scenery than the
scenery did to her, although one was quite as beautiful as the other.

There was a bunch of white flowers in the hat of the young girl; not a
very large one, and not a very small one, but of such a size as might be
easily seen from the bridge, had any one happened to be crossing about
that time. And, in fact, as the wearer of the hat and the white flowers
still continued to gaze at the bridge, she saw some one come out upon it
with a quick, buoyant step, and then she saw him stop and gaze steadily
up the river. At this she turned her head, and her eyes went out over
the beautiful landscape and the wide terraces rising above each other
towards the sky.

It is astonishing how soon after this a young man, dressed in a brown
suit, and very pleasant to look upon, came rapidly walking along the
river bank. This was Master Martin Newcombe, a young Englishman, not two
years from his native land, and now a prosperous farmer on the other
side of the river.

It often happened that Master Newcombe, at the close of his agricultural
labours, would put on a good suit of clothes and ride over the bridge to
the town, to attend to business or to social duties, as the case might
be. But, sometimes, not willing to encumber himself with a horse, he
walked over the bridge and strolled or hurried along the river bank.
This was one of the times in which he hurried. He had been caught by the
vision of the bunch of white flowers in the hat of the girl who was
seated on the rock in the shade.

As Master Newcombe stepped near, his spirits rose, as they had not
always risen, as he approached Mistress Kate, for he perceived that,
although she held the handle of her rod in her hand, the other end of it
was lying on the ground, not very far away from the bait and the hook
which, it was very plain, had not been in the water at all. She must
have been thinking of something else besides fishing, he thought. But he
did not dare to go on with that sort of thinking in the way he would
have liked to do it. He had not too great a belief in himself, though he
was very much in love with Kate Bonnet.

"Is this the best time of day for fishing, Master Newcombe?" she said,
without rising or offering him her hand. "For my par