John Craig, M.D., might ordinarily be set down as an enthusiastic lover of nature, and such a scene when he first gazed upon it aroused the deepest emotions in his artist heart; but strange to say he pays little heed to what is before him now.  It is what occupies the rustic seat in common with John Craig that takes his whole attention.

How shall he say it.  What words can he frame into an animated expression of his feelings?  It was all mapped out before, but the words have utterly slipped his memory, as is always the case in such events.

He turns to Lady Ruth.  Her hand is in her lap.  He boldly reaches out and takes it.  There is only a feeble resistance.  Their eyes meet, “Lady Ruth, will you give me this hand?”

“You—­I—­what could you do with it?” she asks, turning rosy red.

“Well, to begin with—­this,” and he presses it passionately to his lips.

“Oh!  Doctor Craig, what if some one should see you!” now struggling to free her hand, which he holds firmly.

He laughs recklessly, this hitherto shy young man.  Once in the affair, he cares little for prying eyes, and indeed there is small chance of any one noticing them in this retired spot, as there are no other sight-seers around.

“I don’t care who sees me.  I’ve got to tell you what I’m sure you already know, that I love you—­I love you.”

He leans forward and looks in her face, which is downcast.  She has ceased to struggle now, and her hand lies fluttering in his.

Such scenes as these the novelist has no business to linger over.  The emotions that are brought out at such a time should be sacred from the public gaze.

John does not wait long for his answer, as Lady Ruth is a sensible girl, and really cares a great deal more for this young man than she has been ready to admit even to herself.

So she tells him that she is afraid she does take an uncommon interest in his welfare, and that perhaps it would be as well for her to later on assume such a position as will give her the right to watch over him.

So it is nicely settled, and John feels supremely happy, just as all sincere and successful wooers have done from time immemorial.

After a short time John remembers that he meant to introduce a certain subject, and putting aside his feelings of new-found joy—­there will be plenty of time for all that—­he speaks of Sir Lionel.

“Now that you know I am not at all jealous, I want to talk about another.  Sir Lionel Blunt.”

Her face lights up with a smile.

“Perhaps I can guess what you would say.”

“It is about the affair last night.”

“Poor Sir Lionel is rather quiet to-day.  He is not so young as he was, and I imagine that his severe exertions last night have caused him many twinges to-day.”

“Perhaps.  It was the most remarkable affair I ever witnessed.”

“You saw it all?”