her angry to have him press her hand as if he would reassure her against
a doubt.

Fortunately, the time was not long, for they began to bore one another
immensely. It was an exquisite morning when they anchored opposite Ryde,
and the first day of the annual regatta. At breakfast Mr. Cecil Burleigh
quietly announced that he would now leave the yacht, and make his way
home in a few days by the ordinary conveyances. Mr. Frederick Fairfax,
who was a consenting party to the family arrangement, suggested that
Bessie might like to go on shore to see the town and the charming
prospect from the pier and the strand. Mr. Cecil Burleigh did not second
the suggestion promptly enough to avoid the suspicion that he would
prefer to go alone; and Bessie, who had a most sensitive reluctance to
be where she was not wanted, made haste to say that she did not care to
land--she was quite satisfied to see the town from the water. Thereupon
the gentleman pressed the matter with so much insistance that, though
she would much rather have foregone the pleasure than enjoy it under his
escort, she found no polite words decisive enough for a refusal.

A white sateen dress embroidered in black and red, and a flapping
leghorn hat tied down gypsy style with a crimson ribbon, was a
picturesque costume, but not orthodox as a yachting costume at Ryde.
Bessie had a provincial French air in spite of her English face, and Mr.
Cecil Burleigh perhaps regretted that she was not more suitably equipped
for making her _début_ in his company. He had a prejudice against
peculiarity in dress, and knew that it was a terrible thing to be out of
the fashion and to run the gauntlet of bold eyes on Ryde pier. At the
seaside the world is idle, and has nothing to do but stare and
speculate. Bessie had beauty enough to be stared at for that alone, but
it was not her beauty that attracted most remark; it was her cavalier