“Perhaps,” said he, rather tentatively, “you mean that we should all of us keep to our own walks in life?”

“I’m sure I don’t mean anything of the kind,” said she, with much frankness.  “I only mean that if you are not a first-rate shot, you need not be ashamed of it; you should remember there are other things you can do well.  And really you must go out to-morrow morning.  My brother was talking about it at breakfast; and I believe the proposal is that you go with him and Captain Waveney.  If any little mistake is made, Captain Waveney is the man to retrieve it—­at least so I’ve heard them say.”

“At all events,” said he, “if I go with them at all, it will not be under false pretences.  I shall warn them, to begin with, that I am a bad shot; then I can’t be found out.  And they must put me in a position where I can’t do much harm.”

“I dare say you shoot very well,” she said, with a smile.  “Gentlemen always talk like that on the evening before the Twelfth, if they have come to a strange moor.”

But now she had risen again, for a breath of wind was stirring along the strath, while some higher air-currents were slowly bringing certain fleecy clouds across from the west.  As soon as the welcome shade had stolen over the river, she began to cast; and on this smooth water he could see more clearly what an excellent line this was that she sent out.  Not a long line—­perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four yards—­but thrown most admirably, the fly lighting on the surface like a snowflake.  Moreover, he was now a little bit behind her, so that he could with impunity regard the appearance of this newly-found companion—­her lithe and agile form, the proud set of her neck and head, the beautiful close masses of her curly, golden-brown hair, and the fine contour of her sun-tanned cheek.  Then the vigorous exercise in which she was engaged revealed all the suppleness and harmonious proportions of her figure; for here was no pretty wrist-work of trout-fishing, but the wielding of a double-handed salmon-rod; and she had taught herself the gillies’ method of casting—­that is to say, she made the backward cast by throwing both arms right up in the air, so that, as she paused to let the line straighten out behind, her one hand was on a level with her forehead, and the other more than a foot above that.  Lionel thought that before he tried casting in the presence of Miss Honnor Cunyngham, he should like to get a few quiet lessons from old Robert.

However, all this expenditure of skill proved to be of no avail.  She could not move a fin; nor had Robert any better luck, when, they having come to a shallow reach, she allowed the old man, who was encased in waders, to get into the water and fish along the opposite bank.  When he came ashore again, his young mistress said,

“Dame Fortune hasn’t forgiven us for letting that first one go.”  And old Robert, who had probably never heard of Dame Fortune (or may have considered the phrase a polite and young-lady-like form of swearing), merely made answer,