"You must be very fond of such a beautiful place."

"Oh, I love it!" she cried passionately, "if ever I had to--give it
up,--I think I should--die!" She stopped suddenly, and as though
somewhat abashed by this sudden outburst, adding in a lighter tone: "If
I seem rather tragic it is because this is the only home I have
ever known."

"Well," said Bellew, appearing rather more dreamy than usual, just then,
"I have journeyed here and there in this world of ours, I have wandered
up and down, and to and fro in it,--like a certain celebrated personage
who shall be nameless,--yet I never saw, or dreamed, of any such place
as this Dapplemere of yours. It is like Arcadia itself, and only I am
out of place. I seem, somehow, to be too common-place, and altogether
matter-of-fact."

"I'm sure I'm matter-of-fact enough," she said, with her low, sweet
laugh that, Bellew thought, was all too rare.

"You?" said he, and shook his head.

"Well?" she enquired, glancing at him through her wind-tossed curls.

"You are like some fair, and stately lady out of the old romances," he
said gravely.

"In a print gown, and with a sun-bonnet!"

"Even so!" he nodded. Here, for no apparent reason, happening to meet
his glance, the colour deepened in her cheek and she was silent;