He turned to his visitor.
"You will wonder what 'Leone' means, it is such a strange name; it is my niece. Here she comes."
The loveliest picture in all the world, trying hard to preserve her usual stately grace, yet with a blushing, dimpling smile that made her lovely beyond words.
"Leone," said the farmer, "will you bring a jug of cider?"
"Pray," cried the lord, "do not trouble yourself, Miss Noel. I cannot think——"
She interrupted him by a gesture of her white hand.
"I will send it, uncle," she said, and disappeared.
The farmer turned with a smile to the young lord.
"She is very proud," he said; "but she is a fine girl."
The cider came; the visitor duly drank his glass and went; his only reward for all that trouble was the one glance at her face.