“It was not all,” said the girl; “it was Lord Tyrrell’s coming in the way.  Yes, my father told me so; he held it up to me as an example of what one ought to do for one’s family.”

“Then she was coerced?”

“I don’t know; but such a marriage for me, with some one who would redeem the property, is their scheme for me.  Even if your mother and brother could tolerate the thought of one of us, my poor dear father will never dare to consent as long as she is with him.”

“Nay, Lenore; have I not often heard her say she prefers happiness to ambition?  Whatever she may have done, she has come to think differently.  She has well-nigh told me so.”

“Yes, at Rockpier,” sighed Eleonora.  “Hark!” The sound of the ponies’ bells and hoofs was heard; Lenore put her hand on his arm, and drew him aside on the grass, behind a clump of trees, hushing him by a silent pressure as he tried to remonstrate.  He clasped her hand, and felt her trembling till the tinkling and tramp were gone by.

“You frightened darling!” were his first words, when she let him speak.  “Who would have thought you would be so shy?  But we’ll have it out, and—­”

“It is not that,” interrupted Lenore, “not maidenly shyness.  That’s for girls who are happy and secure.  No; but I don’t want to have it all overthrown at once—­the first sweetness—­”

“It can’t be overthrown!” he said, holding arm and hand in the intense grasp.

“Not really, never; but there is no use in attempting anything till I am of age—­next autumn, the 7th of November.”

“Say nothing till then!” exclaimed Frank, in some consternation.

“We are only where we were before!  We are sure of each other now.  It will be only vexation and harass,” said she, with the instinct of a persecuted creature.

“I couldn’t,” said Frank.  “I could not keep it in with mother!  It would not be right if I could, nor should I feel as if I were acting fairly by your father.”

“You are right, Frank.  Forgive me!  You don’t know what it is to have to be always saving one’s truth only by silence.  Speak when you think right.”

“And I believe we shall find it far easier than you think.  I’m not quite a beggar—­except for you, my Lena.  I should like to go home this minute, and tell mother and Charlie and Rose, that I’m—­I’m treading on air; but I should only be fallen upon for thinking of anything but my task-work.  So I’ll take a leaf out of your book, you cautious Lenore, and wait till I come down victorious, happy and glorious—­and I shall now.  I feel as if you had given me power to scale Olympus, now I know I may carry your heart with me.  Do you remember this, Lena?” He guided her hand to the smooth pebble on his chain.  She responded by putting her own into his.

“My talisman!” he said.  “It has been my talisman of success many a time.  I have laid my hand on it, and thought I was working for you.  Mine! mine! mine!  Waters cannot quench love—­never fear.”