"Then I suppose you are naturally lazy, and would like to bask in the sun all day, and have one person to brush away the flies, and another to do your thinking."

"Miss Denis," suddenly looking up at her, with mock indignation, "you speak as if you were alluding to one of the animals of the lower creation;—what have I done to deserve this? I deny the impeachment of laziness. 'Coming, sir,' my servant, will testify that I am out every morning at half-past five; neither am I idle, but I like to spend my time in my own way, not to be driven hither and thither by dinner gongs, and railway bells, and telegrams. I like to pull my neck out from under the social yoke,—to carry out your uncomplimentary simile,—and figuratively, to graze a bit!"

Helen made no reply, but leant her chin on her hand, and looked down abstractedly at the water for some time; twice her companion glanced up, and saw that she was still buried in reflection. At last he said, "I would not presume to purchase your thoughts, Miss Denis, but perhaps you will be so generous as to share them with me?"

"You might not like them! Some of them were about myself," and she laughed rather confusedly.

"And may I not ascertain whether I approve of them or not?"

"You may, if you will promise not to be offended."

"I promise in the most solemn manner; I swear by bell, book, and candle; and I am very much honoured that you should think of me at all!"

"You are laughing at me, Mr. Lisle," she said, colouring vividly, divining a lurking sarcasm in this speech. "I am dumb, and indeed I have no business to criticize you even in my thoughts, much less to your face——"

"Speak out plainly, Miss Denis," he interrupted eagerly; "let me have your views, good and bad, or bad alone."

"It is very presumptuous in me I know—I am only a girl, and you are a great deal older than I am—but it seems to me that every one has some place of their own in the world allotted to them—some special duty to fulfil—" here her listener glanced at her sharply, but her eyes were bent unconsciously on the water, and she did not note his gaze—"surely it is scarcely right to shirk one's share of all the toil and the struggling in the outer world, and the chances of helping one's fellow-creatures, in ways however small,—just for the selfish pleasure of being securely moored from all annoyances among these sleepy islands!"