s. She saw that he was
dressed with extreme care, and that his face was unusually grave.

"You will give Ida my love, Edwin, please, and tell her--" She turned
away that he might not see her anxiety. "That is all; but it means a
great deal, as you know, Edwin. I--I wish you every happiness, my dear
boy!"

"Thank you, mother," he said, by no means in an unmanly way. "My
happiness or unhappiness rests with her."

When he arrived at the Hall, Ida was just going out for a ride. She
turned back with him to the drawing-room, thinking that he had brought
a message from his mother, probably a definite invitation to stay at
the Grange, and in her mind she had already decided to decline it. As
he happened to stand with his back to the window the gravity of his
face did not enlighten her; and with something like a start she
received his first words.

"Miss Heron, my mother says that you have some thought of leaving
Herondale, of going abroad. If that is so, I cannot let you go
without--without my speaking to you; so I have come over this afternoon
to tell you, as well as I can, what I have on my mind and my heart. I'm
not very good at expressing myself, and I'm handicapped in the present
instance by--by the depth of my feeling. Of course I'm trying to tell
you that I love you. I thought you might have seen it," he said, with a
touch of wonder at her start and flush of surprise. "But I see you have
not noticed it. I love you very much indeed; and I feel that my only
chance of happiness lies in my winning you for my wife. I don't know
there's any more to be said than that, if I were to talk for a month. I
love you, and have loved you for a long time past." A few weeks, a few
months are "a long time" to youth when it is in love! "The very first
day I saw you--but I needn't tell you that, only I like you to know
that it isn't a sudden fancy, and one that I shall get over in a hurry.
I don't feel as though I shall ever get over it at all; I don't know
that I want to. Please don't speak for a moment. There was something
else I wanted to say. I'd got it all arranged as I came along, but the
sight of you has scattered it."

Ida had been going to speak, to stop him; but at this appeal she
remained silent, standing with her hands closing and unclosing on her
whip, her eyes fixed on the ground, her brows drawn straight. The
coldest woman cannot listen unmoved to a declaration of love, and Ida
was anything but cold.

"I only wanted to