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letters was too preoccupied for society. In a few
minutes he begged that the ladies would excuse his withdrawing; he
had two or three letters to write before post-time, which was early
at Finden.
    Jasper, relieved by the veteran's departure, began at once to
make himself very agreeable company. When he chose to lay aside the
topic of his own difficulties and ambitions, he could converse with
a spontaneous gaiety which readily won the good-will of listeners.
Naturally he addressed himself very often to Marian Yule, whose
attention complimented him. She said little, and evidently was at
no time a free talker, but the smile on her face indicated a mood
of quiet enjoyment. When her eyes wandered, it was to rest on the
beauties of the garden, the moving patches of golden sunshine, the
forms of gleaming cloud. Jasper liked to observe her as she turned
her head: there seemed to him a particular grace in the movement;
her head and neck were admirably formed, and the short hair drew
attention to this.
    It was agreed that Miss Harrow and Marian should come on the
second day after to have tea with the Milvains. And when Jasper
took leave of Alfred Yule, the latter expressed a wish that they
might have a walk together one of these mornings.

CHAPTER III. HOLIDAY
    Jasper's favourite walk led him to a spot distant perhaps a mile
and a half from home. From a tract of common he turned into a short
lane which crossed the Great Western railway, and thence by a stile
into certain meadows forming a compact little valley. One
recommendation of this retreat was that it lay sheltered from all
winds; to Jasper a wind was objectionable. Along the bottom ran a
clear, shallow stream, overhung with elder and hawthorn bushes; and
close by the wooden bridge which spanned it was a great ash tree,
making shadow for cows and sheep when the sun lay hot upon the open
field. It was rare for anyone to come along this path, save farm
labourers morning and evening.
    But to-day—the afternoon that followed his visit to John Yule's
house—he saw from a distance that his lounging-place on the wooden
bridge was occupied. Someone else had discovered the pleasure there
was in watching the sun-flecked sparkle of the water as it flowed
over the clean sand and stones. A girl in a yellow-straw hat; yes,
and precisely the person he had hoped, at the first glance, that it
might be. He made no haste as he drew nearer on the descending
path. At length his footstep was heard; Marian Yule turned her head
and clearly recognised him.
    She assumed an upright position, letting one of her hands rest
upon the rail. After the exchange of ordinary greetings, Jasper
leaned back against the same support and showed himself disposed
for talk.
    'When I was here late in the spring,' he said, 'this ash was
only just budding, though everything else seemed in full leaf.'
    'An ash, is it?' murmured Marian. 'I didn't know. I think an oak
is the only tree I can distinguish. Yet,' she added quickly, 'I
knew that the ash was late; some lines of Tennyson come to my
memory.'
    'Which are those?'
'Delaying, as the tender ash delays
     To clothe herself when all the woods are green,
    somewhere in the "Idylls."'
    'I don't remember; so I won't pretend to—though I should do so
as a rule.'
    She looked at him oddly, and seemed about to laugh, yet did
not.
    'You have had little experience of the country?' Jasper
continued.
    'Very little. You, I think, have known it from childhood?'
    'In a sort of way. I was born in Wattleborough, and my people
have always lived here. But I am not very rural in temperament. I
have really no friends here; either they have lost interest in me,
or I in them. What do you think of the girls, my sisters?'
    The question, though put with perfect simplicity, was
embarrassing.
    'They are tolerably intellectual,' Jasper went on, when he saw
that it would be difficult for her to answer. 'I want to persuade
them to try their hands at literary work of some kind or other.
They give lessons,