An odd touch of curiosity, peculiar to the languid
emotions, made him ask her this: and to her soft "Yes," he continued
briskly, and in the style of condescending fellowship: "Of course we're
not going to part!"

"I wonder," said Emilia.

There she sat, evidently sounding right through the future with her
young brain, to hear what Destiny might have to say.

The 'I wonder' rang sweetly in his head. It was as delicate a way
of confessing, "I love you with all my soul," as could be imagined.
Extremely refined young ladies could hardly have improved upon it,
saving with the angelic shades of sentiment familiar to them.

Convinced that he had now heard enough for his vanity, Wilfrid returned
emphatically to the tone of the world's highroad.

"By the way," he said, "you mustn't have any exaggerated idea of this
night's work. Remember, also, I have to share the honours with Captain
Gambier."

"I did not see him," said Emilia.

"Are you not cold?" he asked, for a diversion, though he had one of her
hands.

She gave him the other.

He could not quit them abruptly: nor could he hold both without being
drawn to her.

"What is it you say?" Wilfrid whispered: "men kiss us when we are happy.
Is that right? and are you happy?"

She lifted a clear full face, to which he bent his mouth. Over the
flowering hawthorn the moon stood like a windblown white rose of the
heavens. The kiss was given and taken. Strange to tell, it was he who
drew away from it almost bashfully, and with new feelings.

Quite unaware that he played the feminine part, Wilfrid alluded to her
flight from Richford, with the instinct to sting his heart by a revival
of his jealous sensations previously experienced, and so taste the
luxury of present satisfaction.

"Why did you run away from me?" he said, semi-reproachfully.

"I promised."

"Would you not break a promise to stay with me?"

"Now I would!"

"You promised Captain Gambier?"

"No: those poor people."

"You are sorry that you went?"

No: she was happy.

"You have lost your harp by it," said Wilfrid.

"What do you think of me for not guessing--not knowing who sent it?" she
returned. "I feel guilty of something all those days that I touched
it, not thinking of you. Wicked, filthy little creature that I was! I
despise ungrateful girls."

"I detest anything that has to do with gratitude," Wilfrid appended,
"pray give me none. Why did you go away with Captain Gambier?"

"I was very