CHAPTER VII. AN OLD FRIEND APPEARS. "Oh, world unknown, how charming is thy view! CRABBE. ROSIE and Irene were out early the next morning,. for what Rosie called "a real scrambling walk." "We will go over the moor, and come round by the hamlet, and see the curiosities of the neighbourhood, and end with Mrs. Smith, who I hope will give us elder-flower wine and ginger-cakes." Rosie was making this plan, when Jasper trotted out on his pony, past the two girls. "Where are you going, Jasper ?" Rosie called, as he took the way down the avenue, while they were turning up towards the moor; "Jasper, where are you going?" "Just in the opposite direction to you, Miss Rosie; so make your mind easy." And the boy put the pony into a quick canter, and was soon out of sight. "I hope he is not going to find Frederick Tillett, and start for Derwentwater," Rosie said, looking back at the hastily retreating figure. "He surely would not be so disobedient," Irene said, "after what passed with his mother last evening?" "I would not trust him," was Rosie's answer; "there is never any dependence to be placed on Jasper. We can get through the plantations up here," she continued ; "have you ever been this way before?" "Yes, several times; it is a long walk from Rodham, but I have accomplished it once or twice." "Such a lovely air is always blowing here," Rosie said; as they came out upon the open country. "We will make for that stone on the little knoll, and there we will sit down. I have got my sketch-book in my pocket, and I may be moved to draw." When they reached the spot Rosie indicated, a black object, just under the shadow of the rough stone, made Rosie exclaim, "Some one is here before us; who can it be? How tiresome; we shall not be able to sit down there; and that big stone just keeps off the sun pleasantly." As she spoke, the black object moved, and Sir Philip drew himself up from the soft heather and moss, and looked towards them. "It is Philip; but some one is with him—who can it be? I can't imagine; for no one was in the house this morning at breakfast." Her curiosity was soon gratified; for, at the sound of Sir Philip's "Halloo," another figure started to his feet, and advancing towards them with his hat in his hand, greeted Rosie with a sort of shy pleasure, to which she responded. "An old friend has turned up, at last, Rosie; he always does turn up at the most unexpected places. Mr. Sand ford, Miss Clifford," Sir Philip said; "a fellow-pedestrian of mine in Switzerland and Savoy." "Yes," Mr. Sandford said, turning his knapsack across his shoulder, and replacing his big straw hat upon his thick curling hair, "Philip is always to be found on the highest ground-an old weakness of his, Miss Dennistoun, to get as near the sky as he can." “I don't know that I have ever tried a balloon yet," Philip remonstrated, as they all seated themselves on the heather. "Yes," continued Mr. Sandford; "I was directed to this stone as the highest point in the neighbourhood by a broad Cumberland farmer, and told that I should get the finest view of Rodham and out beyond of the mountains, and a strip of channel to the north; not to mention Rockdeane below me, and the Scar a quarter of a mile to the right. I have proved it all true; and added to it a view of Sir Philip, lying at his full length on this soft cushion, and just as little surprised to see me as if we had met yesterday." "My dear fellow, you always do crop up in every conceivable place; why not here as well as anywhere else? So like you never to give me a line, when I have sent you three invitations to Rockdeane in due form, to which you have never replied." "I feel shy, you see; and it always takes off the edge of enjoyment when one thinks too much of it beforehand. Besides, you are such a great man now; and how could I tell if you really meant what you said?" "Humph!" said Philip; "I really mean what I say now; which is, that you are to stay here now you are come.' "Well; I daresay I shall make no objection. To tell the truth, I have left more garments under the shadow of the Mitre, at Rodham, than I have in this little bag. I left them there on Friday; and then took a walk towards Heathtown, where I slept last night, and got round here again to-day-a pretty little stretch of thirty miles over a fine country. I think I will pursue my way to Rodham now; and, having found my worldly possessions, will look you up at luncheon." "Very well; but we may as well make a détour by the edge of the Scar, which we can cross at the upper end, and get into the hamlet of Rockdeane; that is what you were going to do, were you not, Rosie?" "Yes; I am going round by Mrs. Smith's, that Irene may see her; and I want her to see the house also from the opposite side of the stream. But let us rest here a little while; it is so nice." Every one seemed of Rosie's mind; and only a little fragmentary talk passed between the four as they sat in the full enjoyment of the summer day. The wild bees flew past; and, while butterflies danced in airy couples above the thyme and heather, Rosie's pencil made a few lines on the blank page of her sketch-book; but she felt dreamy and indisposed for much exertion. George Sandford watched her from under the wide brim of his hat, and it was not difficult to interpret the expression of his face; while Irene twisted heath and grass into all kinds of fantastic shapes, and Philip lay almost full-length a little apart from the others—not asleep, as Rosie said, but lost in thought. A spell seemed to lie upon the whole party, which none wished to be the first to break. At last, Philip roused himself, and said :— "If you and I are to get to Rodham before luncheon, Sandford, we must push on now." He stood up as he spoke, and began to take long strides over the low grass and heather. George Sandford lingered; evidently he wished Irene to be the next to follow; but it was Rosie, who, with a few springs, reached her brother's side, and Irene was left with George Sandford. Philip walked on, and the others were some way behind. “Have you known them long?" Irene's companion asked, at last. "You mean Sir Philip and his sister?" Irene said quickly. "Yes; of course, I do," was the answer. "No; I have only known the Dennistouns since last autumn; my brother-in-law," she added, "is Sir Philip's lawyer." "I have known him for years," was the rejoinder; "I saw him last on the Lake of Geneva, and was the first to tell him of old Sir Jasper's death. I intended, as much as I ever intend anything, to come here sooner; but somehow, I went on to Italy for the winter, and since then I have been wasting my time in Corsica. I am a bird of passage you see.” "Have you no settled home?" Irene asked. "Well, yes; the home is settled, only I never am. I have the misfortune to be the heir to a little place and a few acres in Somersetshire. I am an only son, another misfortune; and I have never had any need to earn my bread." "Misfortune the third," said Irene, laughing. "Yes; I believe you," was the answer. "The greatest of all. I saw a great deal of Philip at one time, as he got my old father well out of some ridiculous action as to a right of way. He is a fine fellow; always first somehow, |