CHAPTER XIII.
"_I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more._" LOVELACE Just after Surrey, for the third time, had passed through the avenue of trees, two men appeared in it, earnestly conversing.

One, the older, was the same who had met Willie as he was going out, and had examined him with such curious interest.

The other, in feature, form, and bearing, was so absolutely the counterpart of his companion that it was easy to recognize in them father and son,--a father and son whom it would be hard to match.

"The finest type of the Anglo-Saxon race I have seen from America," was the verdict pronounced upon Mr.Ercildoune, when he was a young man studying abroad, by an enthusiastic and nationally ignorant Englishman; "but then, sir," he added, "what very dark complexions you Americans have! Is it universal ?" "By no means, sir," was Mr.Ercildoune's reply.

"There are some exceedingly fine ones among my countrymen.