As Annesley Beecher comprehended his own phrase, being "understood" was no such bad thing. It meant, in the first place, a generous appreciation of all motives for good, even though they never went beyond motives; a hopeful trust in some unseen, unmanifested excellence of character; a broadcast belief that, making a due allowance for temptations, human frailties, and the doctrine of chances,--this latter most of all,--the balance would always be found in favor of good _versus_ evil; and, secondly, that all the imputed faults and vices of such natures as _his_ were little else than the ordinary weaknesses of "the best of us." Such is being "understood," good reader; and, however it may chance with others, I hope that "you and I may."

But Lizzy Davis understood him even better and deeper than all this.

She knew him, if not better than I do myself, at least, better than I am able to depict to you. Apart, then, from the little "distractions"

I have mentioned, Beecher was very happy. It had been many a long day since he felt himself so light-hearted and so kindly-minded to the world at large. He neither wished any misfortune to befall Holt's "stable"

or Shipman's "three-year old;" he did not drop off to sleep hoping that Beverley might break down or "Nightcap" spring a back sinew; and, stranger than all, he actually could awake of a morning and not wish himself the Viscount Lackington. Accustomed as he was to tell Lizzy everything, to ask her advice about all that arose, and her explanation for all that puzzled him, he could not help communicating this new phenomenon of his temperament, frankly acknowledging that it was a mystery he could not fathom.

"Nothing seems ever to puzzle you, Lizzy,"--he had learned to call her Lizzy some time back,--"so just tell me what can you make of it? Ain't it strange?"

"It _is_ strange," said she, with a faint smile, in which a sort of sad meaning mingled.

"So strange," resumed he, "that had any one said to me, 'Beecher, you 'll spend a couple of months in a little German inn, with nothing to do, nothing to see, and, what's more, it will not bore you,' I 'd have answered, 'Take you fifty to one in hundreds on the double event,--thousands if you like it better,'--and see, hang me if I should n't have lost!"

"Perhaps not. If you had a heavy wager on the matter, it is likely you would not have come."

"Who knows! Everything is Fate in this world. Ah, you may laugh; but it is, though. What else, I ask you--what brings you here just now?--why am I walking along the river with you beside me?"

"Partly, because, I hope, you find it pleasant," said she, with a droll gravity, while something in her eyes seemed to betoken that her own thoughts amused her.

"There must be more than that," said he, thoughtfully, for he felt the question a knotty one, and rather liked to show that he did not skulk the encounter with such difficulties.

"Partly, perhaps, because it pleases _me_," said she, in the same quiet tone.

He shook his head doubtingly; he had asked for an explanation, and neither of these supplied that want. "At all events, Lizzy, there is one thing you will admit,--if it is Fate, one can't help it,--eh?"

"If you mean by that that you must walk along here at my side, whether you will or not, just try, for experiment's sake, if you could not cross over the stream and leave me to go back alone."

"Leave _you_ to go back alone!" cried he, upon whom the last words were ever the most emphatic. "But why so, Lizzy; are you angry with me?--are you weary of me?"

"No, I 'm not angry with you," said she, gently.

"Wearied, then--tired of me--bored?"

"Must I pay you compliments on your agreeability, Mr. Beecher?"

"There it is again," broke he in, pettishly. "It was only yesterday you consented to call me Annesley, and you have gone back from it already,--forgotten it all!"

"No, I forget very seldom--unfortunately." This last word was uttered to herself and for herself.

"You will call me Annesley, then?" asked he, eagerly.

"Yes, if you wish it,--Annesley." There was a pause before she spoke the last word; and when she did utter it, her accent faltered slightly, and a faint blush tinged her cheek.

As for Beecher, his heart swelled high and proudly; he felt at that moment a strange warm glow within him that counterfeited courage; for an instant he thought he would have liked something perilous to confront,--something in encountering which he might stand forth before Lizzy as a Paladin. Was it that some mysterious voice within him whispered, "She loves you; her heart is yours"? and, oh, if so, what a glorious sentiment must there be in that passion, if love can move a nature like this, and mould it to one great or generous ambition!

"Lizzy, I want to talk to you seriously," said he, drawing her arm within his own. "I have long wanted to tell you something; and if you can hear it without displeasure, I swear to you I 'd not change with Lackington to-morrow! Not that it's such good fun being a younger son,--few men know that better than myself; still, I repeat, that if you only say 'yes' to me, I pledge you my oath I 'd rather hear it than be sure I was to win the Oaks,--ay, by Heaven! Oaks and Derby, too! You know now what I mean, dearest Lizzy, and do not, I beseech you, keep me longer in suspense."

She made no answer; her cheek became very pale, and a convulsive shudder passed over her; but she was calm and unmoved the next instant.

"If you love another, Lizzy," said he, and his lips trembled violently, "say so frankly. It's only like all my other luck in life, though nothing was ever as heavy as this."

There was an honesty, a sincerity in the tone, of these words that seemed to touch her; for she stole a side look at his face, and the expression of her glance was of kindly pity.

"Is it true, then, that you _do_ love another, Lizzy?" repeated he, with even deeper emotion.

"No!" said she, with a slow utterance.

"Will you not tell me, dearest Lizzy, if--if--I am to have any hope? I know well enough that you need n't take a poor beggar of a younger son.

I know where a girl of your beauty may choose. Far better than you do I know that you might have title, rank, fortune; and as for me, all I have is a miserable annuity Lackington allows me, just enough to starve on,--not that I mean to go on, however, as I have been doing; no, no, by Jove! I 'm round the corner now, and I intend to make play, and 'take up my running.' Your father and I understand what we're about."

What a look was that Lizzy gave him! What a piercing significance must the glance have had that sent the blood so suddenly to his face and forehead, and made him falter, and then stop.

"One thing I 'll swear to you, Lizzy,--swear it by all that is most solemn," cried he, at last: "if you consent to share fortunes with me, I 'll never engage in anything--no matter how sure or how safe--without your full concurrence. I have been buying experience this many a year, and pretty sharply has it cost me. They make a gentleman pay his footing, I promise you; but I _do_ know a thing or two at last; I _have_ had my eyes opened!"

Oh, Annesley Beecher, can you not see how you are damaging your own cause? You have but to look at that averted head, or, bending round, to catch a glimpse of those fair features, and mark the haughty scorn upon them, to feel that you are pleading against yourself.

"And what may be this knowledge of which you are so proud?" said she, coldly.

"Oh, as to that," said he, in some confusion at the tone she had assumed, "it concerns many a thing you never heard of. The turf, and the men that live by it, make a little world of their own; they don't bother their heads about parties or politics,--don't care a farthing who 's 'in' or who 's 'out.' They keep their wits--and pretty sharp wits they are--for what goes on in Scott's stable, and how Holt stands for the St.

Leger. They 'd rather hear how Velocipede eat his corn, than hear all the Cabinet secrets of Europe; and for that matter, so would I."

"I do not blame you for not caring for State secrets,--it is very possible they would interest you little; but surely you might imagine some more fitting career than what, after all, is a mere trading on the weakness of others. To make of an amusement a matter of profit is, in my eyes, mean; it is contemptible."

"That's not the way to look on it at all. The first men in England have race-horses."

"And precisely in the fact of their great wealth do they soar above all the ignoble associations the turf obliges to those who live by it."

"Well, I 'll give it up; there's my word on't I 'll never put my foot in Tattersall's yard again. I 'll take my name off the Turf Club,--is that enough?"

She could not help smiling at the honest zeal of this sacrifice; but the smile had none of the scorn her features displayed before.

"Oh, Lizzy!" cried he, enthusiastically, "if I was sure we could just live on here as we are doing,--never leave this little valley, nor see more of the world than we do daily,--I'd not exchange the life for a duke's fortune--"

"And Holt's stable," added she, laughing. "Come, you must not omit the real bribe."

He laughed heartily at this sally, and owned it was the grand temptation.

"You are certainly very good-tempered, Annesley," said she, after a pause.

"I don't think I am," said he, half piqued, for he thought the remark contained a sort of disparagement of that sharpness on which he chiefly prided himself. "I am very hot at times."

"I meant that you bore with great good-humor from me what you might, if so disposed, have fairly enough resented as an impertinence. What do I, what could I, know of that play-world of which you spoke? How gentlemen and men of fashion regard these things must needs be mysteries to me; I only wished to imply that you might make some better use of your faculties, and that knowledge of life you possess, than in conning over a betting-book or the 'Racing Calendar.'"

"So I mean to do. That's exactly what I 'm planning."

"Here's the soup cooling and the sherry getting hot," cried Grog, as he shouted from the window of the little inn, and waved his napkin to attract their notice.

"There's papa making a signal to us," said Lizzy; "did you suspect it was so late?"