She acknowledged my compliment by a curtsey, which reminded me again of
the village school. "Thank you, young man," she said smartly; "I wonder
who you are?"

"Try if you can recollect me," I suggested.

"May I take a long look at you?"

"As long as you like."

She studied my face, with a mental effort to remember me, which gathered
her pretty eyebrows together quaintly in a frown.

"There's something in his eyes," she remarked, not speaking to me but to
herself, "which doesn't seem to be quite strange. But I don't know his
voice, and I don't know his beard." She considered a little, and
addressed herself directly to me once more. "Now I look at you again, you
seem to be a gentleman. Are you one?"

"I hope so."

"Then you're not making game of me?"

"My dear, I am only trying if you can remember Gerard Roylake."

While in charge of the boat, the miller's daughter had been rowing with
bared arms; beautiful dusky arms, at once delicate and strong. Thus far,
she had forgotten to cover them up. The moment mentioned my name, she
started back as if I had frightened her--pulled her sleeves down in a