It was rare for anyone to come along this path, save farm labourers morning and evening.
But to-day--the afternoon that followed his visit to John Yule's house--he saw from a distance that his lounging-place on the wooden bridge was occupied.

Someone else had discovered the pleasure there was in watching the sun-flecked sparkle of the water as it flowed over the clean sand and stones.

A girl in a yellow-straw hat; yes, and precisely the person he had hoped, at the first glance, that it might be.

He made no haste as he drew nearer on the descending path.

At length his footstep was heard; Marian Yule turned her head and clearly recognised him.
She assumed an upright position, letting one of her hands rest upon the rail.