had suggested) above the pool that lay on this side of the double waterfall, was a young lady, her back turned towards him.  So far as he could make out, she wasn’t doing anything; a long fishing-rod, with the butt on the ground, she held idly in her right hand; while with her left hand she occasionally shaded her face across towards the west—­probably, as he imagined, she was waiting for some of those smooth-sailing clouds to come and obscure the too-fierce light of the sun.  He knew who she was; this must be Honnor Cunyngham, Lady Adela’s sister-in-law; and of course he did not wish to intrude on the young lady’s privacy; he would try to pass by behind her unobserved, though here the strath narrowed until it was almost a defile.

He was soon relieved from all anxiety.  Sharper eyes than his own had perceived him.  The young lady wheeled round; glanced at him for a second; turned again; and then a thin, tall, old man, who had hitherto been invisible to him, rose from his concealment among the rocks close to her and came along the river bank.  He was a very handsome old man, this superannuated keeper, with his keen, aquiline nose, his clear, gray eyes, and frosted hair.

“Miss Honnor says will you hef a cast, sir?  There’s some clouds will be over soon.”

“Oh, no, thank you, I could not dream of interrupting her,” Lionel said; and then it occurred to him that he ought to go and thank the young lady herself for this frank invitation.  “I—­I’ll go along and tell her so.”

As he walked towards her he kept his eye, somewhat furtively, on her, though now she had turned her back again; and all he could make out was that she had a very elegant figure; that she was tall—­though not so tall as her three sisters-in-law; and that her abundant brown hair was short and curly and kept close to her head, almost like a boy’s.  Were not her shoulders a trifle square-set for a woman?—­but perhaps that appearance was owing to her costume, for she wore a Norfolk jacket of gray homespun that looked as if it could afford a good defence against the weather.  She was entirely in gray, in fact; for her short-skirted dress was of the same material; and so also was the Tam o’ Shanter, adorned with salmon flies, that she wore on her shapely head of golden-brown curls.  Oh, yes, she looked sufficiently picturesque, standing there against the glow of the western skies, with the long salmon-rod in her right hand; but he was hardly prepared for what followed.  The moment that she heard him draw near, she wheeled round and regarded him for a second—­regarded him with a glance that rather bewildered him by reason of its transparent honesty and directness.  The clear hazel eyes seemed to read him through and through, and yet not to be aware of their own boldness; and he did not know why he was so glad to hear that she had a soft and girlish voice, as she said,

“You are Mr. Moore.  I am Lady Adela’s sister—­of course you know.  Won’t you take my rod?  There will be some shadow very soon, I think.”