Whatever were her motives, he could not but give himself up blindly and helplessly to the intoxication of the present time, to gaze upon her face, to hear her voice, and conjure up the hope that a time would come when she would love him better than ever. Besides, her society was full of many charms. As in Clare, there was in Ida a wonderful attraction to a companion. She had, though young, travelled much in Europe, and seen all that was worth seeing. She was thus familiar with many countries; and so far as their histories and traditions went, together with a knowledge of literature that was classic, refined, abstruse, and even mystic, as we have shown, she was far beyond an everyday young Englishman like Jerry Vane. 'I am neither a boy nor a madman, yet I dream like both in hanging on here as I do!' he would sometimes say in bitterness; and then he would recall her remarkable words on that evening in town--'It may be that we have only been in our hearts waiting for each other after all.' From what did these hopeful words spring?--coquetry, mockery, reality, or what? She was never known to coquet; she was too genuine a creature for mockery; hence, they must have been reality, and, full of this conviction, he resolved once more to put it to the issue on the first opportunity, and one was secured on the very afternoon he made the resolution. He had not, that day, gone to shoot; the men were all abroad; nearly all the ladies were out driving or riding, save Ida, whom he found in the curtained oriel of the inner drawing-room, where she was standing alone and gazing out on the far-stretching landscape, that was steeped in the evening sunshine; the square spire of the village church, the tossing arms of an old windmill, the yellow-thatched roofs of white-walled cottages stood out strongly against the dark green of the woodlands at the end of a long vista of the chase, and made a charming picture. In the middle distance was some pasture land, where several of Sir Carnaby's fierce little Highland cattle and great fat brindled Alderneys stood knee-deep amid the rich grass. Perhaps she was thinking of how often she had ridden there with Beverley, and loved to hear him compliment her on the daring grace and ease with which she topped her fences, and the lightness of hand with which she lifted her bay cob's head; and Jerry feared that some such thoughts might be passing through her mind as he paused irresolutely and thought how beautiful was the outline and pose of her darkly dressed figure against the flood of light that poured through the painted oriel. The dark shadow had been less upon her to-day than usual, and on hearing his footstep on the soft carpet she turned and welcomed him with a bright smile. Would that smile ever change again to coldness and gloom? Would his hand ever again wander lovingly and half fatuously among the richness of her auburn hair, that shone like plaits of golden sheen in the light? Heaven alone knew.