And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured forth his miserable history.

‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, when he had done, ’I am—­so—­sorry! wish I hadn’t laughed at you—­only you know you really were so exceedingly funny.  But I wish I hadn’t, and I wouldn’t either if I had only known.’  And she gave him her hand.

Gideon kept it in his own.  ‘You do not think the worse of me for this?’ he asked tenderly.

’Because you have been so silly and got into such dreadful trouble? you poor boy, no!’ cried Julia; and, in the warmth of the moment, reached him her other hand; ‘you may count on me,’ she added.

‘Really?’ said Gideon.

‘Really and really!’ replied the girl.

‘I do then, and I will,’ cried the young man.  ’I admit the moment is not well chosen; but I have no friends—­to speak of.’

‘No more have I,’ said Julia.  ’But don’t you think it’s perhaps time you gave me back my hands?’

‘La ci darem la mano,’ said the barrister, ’the merest moment more!  I have so few friends,’ he added.

’I thought it was considered such a bad account of a young man to have no friends,’ observed Julia.

‘O, but I have crowds of friends!’ cried Gideon.  ’That’s not what I mean.  I feel the moment is ill chosen; but O, Julia, if you could only see yourself!’

‘Mr Forsyth—­’

‘Don’t call me by that beastly name!’ cried the youth.  ‘Call me Gideon!’

‘O, never that,’ from Julia.  ’Besides, we have known each other such a short time.’

‘Not at all!’ protested Gideon.  ’We met at Bournemouth ever so long ago.  I never forgot you since.  Say you never forgot me.  Say you never forgot me, and call me Gideon!’

‘Isn’t this rather—­a want of reserve about Jimson?’ enquired the girl.

‘O, I know I am an ass,’ cried the barrister, ’and I don’t care a halfpenny!  I know I’m an ass, and you may laugh at me to your heart’s delight.’  And as Julia’s lips opened with a smile, he once more dropped into music.  ‘There’s the Land of Cherry Isle!’ he sang, courting her with his eyes.

‘It’s like an opera,’ said Julia, rather faintly.

‘What should it be?’ said Gideon.  ’Am I not Jimson?  It would be strange if I did not serenade my love.  O yes, I mean the word, my Julia; and I mean to win you.  I am in dreadful trouble, and I have not a penny of my own, and I have cut the silliest figure; and yet I mean to win you, Julia.  Look at me, if you can, and tell me no!’

She looked at him; and whatever her eyes may have told him, it is to be supposed he took a pleasure in the message, for he read it a long while.

‘And Uncle Ned will give us some money to go on upon in the meanwhile,’ he said at last.

‘Well, I call that cool!’ said a cheerful voice at his elbow.