ady unconsciously engaged, that one manly figure,
one melancholy yet expressive face utterly prevented the reception of
any other. Emmeline knew not herself the extent of influence that secret
image had obtained; she guessed not the whole truth until that night
when her marriage had been jestingly alluded to, and then it burst upon
her, stunning her young mind with a sense of scarcely-defined yet most
painful consciousness. Arthur Myrvin had looked to Emmeline's return to
Oakwood with many mingled feelings; she might be perhaps, even as her
sister, a betrothed bride; he might have to witness, perhaps to
officiate at her nuptials; he might see her courted, receiving
attentions from and bestowing smiles on others, not casting one look or
one thought on him, who for her would have gladly died. The idea was
agony, and it was the sufferings occasioned by the anticipation of ideal
misery that had produced the change in face and form which Herbert had
beheld and regretted.

They met, and as if fortune favoured their secret but mutual affection,
alone, the first time since Emmeline had returned from London.
Unaccustomed to control, and at that time quite unconscious she had
anything to conceal, though wondering why every pulse should throb, and
her cheek so flush and pale, her agitation of manner, her expressed and
evidently felt sorrow for the traces of suffering she beheld, sunk as
balm on the sorrowing heart of the young man, and his first three or
four interviews with her were productive of a happiness so exquisite,
that it almost succeeded in banishing his gloom; but short indeed was
that period of relief. Speedily he saw her, as he had expected,
surrounded by gay young men of wealth and station. He felt they looked
down on him; they thought not of him, as a rival he was unworthy, as
incapable of loving a being so exalted; but in the midst of these
wretched thoughts there arose one, that for a brief space was so bright,
so glad, so beautiful, that while it lasted every object partook its
rays. He marked her, he looked, with eyes rendered clear from jealousy,
for some sign, it mattered not how small, to say she preferred the
society of others to his own; ready as he was to look on the darkest
side of things, he felt the hesitating glance, the timid tone with which
she had latterly addressed him, contrary as it was to the mischievous
playfulness which had formerly marked her intercourse with him, was
dearer, oh, how much dea