CHAPTER IV.
IN PARADISE.
We stood at the white gate talking to each other, my Charlotte and I.
The old red-tiled roof which I had seen in the distance sheltered the girl I love.

The solitary farm-house which it had been my whim to examine was the house in which my dear love made her home.

It was here, to this untrodden hillside, that my darling had come from the prim modern villa at Bayswater.

Ah, what happiness to find her here, far away from all those stockbroking surroundings--here, where our hearts expanded beneath the divine influence of Nature! I fear that I was coxcomb enough to fancy myself beloved that day we parted in Kensington-gardens.

A look, a tone--too subtle for definition--thrilled me with a sudden hope so bright, that I would not trust myself to believe it could be realised.
"She is a coquette," I said to myself.