you insatiable person, in the way of beauty?"

Then, slightly ashamed of his outburst, Tom practised a delightful smile,
at once sentimental and flirtatious.

"No, on second thoughts, my dear princess, I keep my commiseration for my
wretched self--every crumb of it. For I am the lonely exile--that is, I
am just about to be--not you. Be advised, don't quarrel with the good
gifts of the gods. Deadham Hard is frankly entrancing. How willingly
would I put off taking ship for your vaunted India, and spend the
unending cycles of eternity here--with you, well understood--in this most
delectable spot instead."

Whereupon Damaris, with mingled gravity and haste, her head bent, so
that hat-crown and hat-brim were presented to the young man's observation
rather than her face, proceeded to explain she had spoken not of the
present but of the past. From the time Sir Charles returned to inhabit
it, The Hard was transformed; his presence conferring interest and
dignity upon it, rendering it a not unworthy dwelling-place
indeed--should any such happen that way--for sages, conquerors, or even
kings. He cared for the little property, a fact to her all sufficient.
For him it held the charm of old associations. The pleasantest days of
his boyhood were spent here with Thomas Clarkson Verity, his great
uncle--who eventually left him the property--nor had he ever failed later
to visit it when home on leave. In pious remembrance of that distant era
and of his entertaining and affectionate, if somewhat eccentric, host and
friend he forbade any alteration in the house or grounds. It continued
to-day just as old Mr. Verity left it. There was no break, even in
details of furnishing or arrangement, with the past. This, to Sir
Charles, added to the natural restfulness of the place. Now after the