I sat up, rubbed my eves, and began to accumulate Facts.
A smooth grassy slope, bounded, at the upper end, by venerable ruins
half buried in ivy, at the lower, by a stream seen through arching
trees--a dozen gaily-dressed people, seated in little groups here and
there--some open hampers--the debris of a picnic--such were the Facts
accumulated by the Scientific Researcher. And now, what deep,
far-reaching Theory was he to construct from them? The Researcher
found himself at fault. Yet stay! One Fact had escaped his notice.
While all the rest were grouped in twos and in threes, Arthur was
alone: while all tongues were talking, his was silent: while all faces
were gay, his was gloomy and despondent. Here was a Fact indeed!
The Researcher felt that a Theory must be constructed without delay.
Lady Muriel had just risen and left the party. Could that be the cause
of his despondency? The Theory hardly rose to the dignity of a Working
Hypothesis. Clearly more Facts were needed.
The Researcher looked round him once more: and now the Facts accumulated
in such bewildering profusion, that the Theory was lost among them.
For Lady Muriel had gone to meet a strange gentleman, just visible in
the distance: and now she was returning with him, both of them talking
eagerly and joyfully, like old friends who have been long parted:
and now she was moving from group to group, introducing the new
hero of the hour: and he, young, tall, and handsome, moved gracefully
at her side, with the erect bearing and firm tread of a soldier.
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