balance of the head, the statuesque neck, would have surmised that it
was beautiful.

A tall, lithe, well-built young man, who had a few moments before
entered the cottage, walked into the garden from the back door. His
eye was one that the casual observer would describe as 'full of
mischief;' but behind the sunny brightness was a pensive cast. He
walked softly towards the arbour, and stood for several seconds
looking at its beautiful occupant. Then, in moving his foot, the dry
branch of a rose-bush snapped, and the girl turned her head.

'Ah, it is you, Roland--pardon me, Mr. Gray.'

'Yes; I have come here to eat your apples and your peaches; and to
despoil the grove of their woodcock.'

'Papa said you were coming some time soon; but I did not know when.'

'Why, I met him this morning at the Don Mills, and told him he would
have me during the afternoon and evening. I sent that message
distinctly to you, Miss Aster.'

A faint shadow passed over her face; and it was plain that she was a
little confused, as she stammered:

'Papa must have misunderstood you.'

'Perhaps, Miss Aster; but--well, I hope he did.' At this moment
another person entered the garden. He did not come with the graceful
motion, and the easy tread of Roland Gray; but moved wily a pompous