te of loveliness. And her mind too; there was nothing
childish in her thoughts except their playfulness. The morning dew-drops
had not yet exhaled; but the day-star of the mind was well up in the
sky.

She was one of those, on whom it is dangerous for a man afraid of love
to meditate too long. She was one the effect of whose looks and words is
not evanescent. That of mere beauty passes away. How many a face do we
see and think it the loveliest in the world; yet shut the eyes an hour
after, and try to recall the features--to paint them to the mind's eye.
You cannot. But there are others that link themselves with every feeling
of the heart, that twine themselves with constantly recurring thoughts,
that never can be effaced--never forgotten--on which age or time,
disease or death, may do its work without effecting one change in the
reality embalmed in memory. Destroy the die, break the mould, you may;
but the medal and the cast remain. Had Marlow lived a hundred years--had
he never seen Emily Hastings again, not one line of her bright face, not
one speaking look, would have passed from his memory. He could have
painted a portrait of her had he been an artist. Did you ever gaze long
at the sun, trying your eyes against the eagle's? If so, you have had
the bright orb floating before your eyes the whole day after. And so it
was with Marlow: throughout the long hours that followed, he had Emily
Hastings ever before him. But yet he did not love her. Oh dear no, not
in the least. Love he thought was very different from mere admiration.
It was a plant of slower growth. He was no believer in love at first
sight. He was an infidel as to Romeo and Juliet, and he had firmly
resolved if ever he did fall in love, it should be done cautiously.

Poor man! he little knew how deep he was in already.

In the meanwhile, Emily walked onward. She was heart-whole at least. She
had never dreamed of love. It had not been one of her studies. Her
father had never presented the idea to her. Her mother had often talked
of marriage, and marriages good and bad; but always put them in the
light of alliances--compacts--negotiated treaties. Although Lady
Hastings knew what love is as well as any one, and had felt it as
deeply, yet she did not wish her daughter to be as romantic as she had
been, and therefore the subject was avoided. Emily thought a good deal
of Mr. Marlow, it is true. She thought him handsome, graceful,
winning--one of the pleasantest c