line with involuntary skill as he passed, he not only escaped the various
entanglements, but drew forth a fine large fish.

"There, Ellen, he has captivated your _protege_, the trout, or, at
least, one very like him in size," observed Edward. "It is singular," he
added, gazing earnestly at the man.

"Why is it singular?" inquired Ellen Langton. "This person, perhaps,
resides in the neighborhood, and may have fished often in the stream."

"Do but look at him, Ellen, and judge whether his life can have been spent
in this lonely valley," he replied. "The glow of many a hotter sun than
ours has darkened his brow; and his step and air have something foreign in
them, like what we see in sailors who have lived more in other countries
than in their own. Is it not so, Ellen? for your education in a seaport
must have given you skill in these matters. But come, let us approach
nearer."

They walked towards the angler, accordingly, who still remained under the
oak, apparently engaged in arranging his fishing-tackle. As the party drew
nigh, he raised his head, and threw one quick, scrutinizing glance towards
them, disclosing, on his part, a set of bold and rather coarse features,
weather-beaten, but indicating the age of the owner to be not above
thirty. In person he surpassed the middle size, was well set, and
evidently strong and active.

"Do you meet with much success, sir?" inquired Edward Walcott, when within
a convenient distance for conversation.

"I have taken but one fish," replied the angler, in an accent which his