long pale line, unvaried
by one moving speck.

A puerile tear dimmed my eye while I looked--a tear of disappointment and
impatience; ashamed of it, I wiped it away. I lingered; the moon shut
herself wholly within her chamber, and drew close her curtain of dense
cloud: the night grew dark; rain came driving fast on the gale.

"I wish he would come! I wish he would come!" I exclaimed, seized with
hypochondriac foreboding. I had expected his arrival before tea; now it
was dark: what could keep him? Had an accident happened? The event of
last night again recurred to me. I interpreted it as a warning of
disaster. I feared my hopes were too bright to be realised; and I had
enjoyed so much bliss lately that I imagined my fortune had passed its
meridian, and must now decline.

"Well, I cannot return to the house," I thought; "I cannot sit by the
fireside, while he is abroad in inclement weather: better tire my limbs
than strain my heart; I will go forward and meet him."

I set out; I walked fast, but not far: ere I had measured a quarter of a
mile, I heard the tramp of hoofs; a horseman came on, full gallop; a dog
ran by his side. Away with evil presentiment! It was he: here he was,
mounted on Mesrour, followed by Pilot. He saw me; for the moon had
opened a blue field in the sky, and rode in it watery bright: he took his
hat off, and waved it round his head. I now ran to meet him.

"There!" he exclaimed, as he stretched out his hand and bent from the
saddle: "You can't do without me, that is evident. Step on my boot-toe;
give me both hands: mount!"

I obeyed: joy made me agile: I sprang up before him. A hearty kissing I
got for a welcome, and some boastful triumph, which I swallowed as well
as I could. He checked himself in his exultation to demand, "But is
there anything the matter, Janet, that you come to meet me at such an
hour? Is there anything wrong?"

"No, but I thought you would never come. I could not bear to wait in the
house for you, especially with this rain and wind."

"Rain and wind, indeed! Yes, you are dripping like a mermaid; pull my
cloak round you: but I think you are feverish, Jane: both your cheek and
hand are burning hot. I ask again, is there anything the matter?"

"Nothing now; I am neither afraid nor unhappy."

"Then you have been both?"

"Rather: but I'll tell you all about it by-and-bye, sir; and I daresay
you will only laugh at me for my pains."

"I'll laugh at you hea