From this peaceful scene Jack's eye fell upon Jonathan, who, seated upon the stile, under the shade of an elder tree, was evidently watching him. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. But there was no sign from her.
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