"Then," said Brandon, almost taking Valentine's breath away with sudden
delight, "I think, old fellow, that when she has once said 'yes,' you
had better make short work with the engagement; you will never be more
ready to marry than you are now; you are a few months older than John
was when he went and did it; and here you are, with your house in New
Zealand ready built, your garden planted, a flock of sheep bought, and
all there is to do is to turn out the people now taking care of the
place, as soon as you are ready to come in."

Brandon was standing on a little plank which bridged a stream about two
feet wide; he had turned to say this, for Valentine was behind him.

Valentine received the communication first with silence, then with a
shout of triumph, after which he ran completely round his brother
several times, jumping over the stream and flourishing a great stick
that he held, with boyish ecstasy, not at all dignified, but very
sincere. When he had made at least three complete circles, and jumped
the stream six times, Giles gravely walked on, and Valentine presently
followed, wiping his forehead.

"Nobody could have expressed my own sentiments in more charming
English," he exclaimed; "I never heard such grammar in my life; what a
brick you are, St. George!"

Giles had great faith in his theory that absence always cured love, also
in his belief that his was cured and half forgotten. At that moment he
experienced a sharp pang, however, that was not very like forgetfulness,
but which Valentine converted almost into self-scorn when he said--

"You know, Giles, she always did show the most undisguised liking for me
from our first meeting; and then look how constant she has been, and
what beautiful letters she writes, always trying, too, to improve me. Of
course I cannot even pretend to think she would not have engaged herself
to me months ago if I might have asked her."

"All true, perfectly true," he thought to himself; "he loves her and she
loves him, and I believe if she had never met with Valentine, she would
still never have married me. What a fool I am!"

"Why wouldn't you take this view of things yesterday, when I tried to
make you?" asked Valentine.

"I was not ready for it," answered Giles, "or it was not ready for me."

Thereupon they passed through a wicket-gate into a kind of glen or
wilderness, at the end of John Mortimer's garden, and beyond the stream
where his little girls acted Nausicaa a