"Do not be afraid of that," she whispered eagerly. "I know I am young--I know one ought not to be too positive about the future--but I _feel_ that it will be impossible to help loving you always, even if I try not to, which I certainly shan't. I am sure I began it when I saw you riding across the racecourse that day--I am sure I shall not stop any more as long as I live. I don't think there can be another man in the world like you." And so they talked, until it occurred to one of them to wonder what the time was. Mr. Dalrymple struck a match and looked at his watch, Rachel shielding the small flame from the wind with her hand. "Oh," she exclaimed in dismay, "what would Aunt Elizabeth say if she knew I was sitting out here at eleven o'clock at night!" "Call it eleven p.m.," he suggested, looking at her with his slow smile; "that sounds so much better." "Did you think it was so late? The time has flown." "I _felt_ it flying," he replied. "But I did not think it was so late. I'm afraid you must go home, little one. Oh, dear me, when shall we have such a time again! Will you come here to-morrow night, and tell me how you have got over your day's troubles?" This was not a proposal that Rachel could accept comfortably, nor that he could bring himself to press upon her. But when they came to reconsider their position and necessities, it was hard to find an alternative. "You see, I must go back to Queensland in a day or two," Mr. Dalrymple explained, when, having taken her out of her hole and dusted her skirts with his handkerchief, he led her through the labyrinth of walls into the open moonlight, and they paused, hand in hand, for a few last words. "We have an immense deal to do up there, and Gordon wants me. I must look after getting things together for you too. There is not even a roof for your head yet. But I can't bear to leave town without knowing first how matters are likely to go with you." "If you _should_ be obliged to do that--if I _cannot_ see you again," said Rachel, "when will you come back?" "I will come back in--let me see, this is October--in two months. I will be back at Christmas. I should have liked to see your uncle to-morrow, just that there should be no mistake about what I mean to do; but if you think it will make things harder for you, I won't, of course. You shall just tell Kingston what you like, and the rest of them I will enlighten when I come. By that time he will be out of the way and done with, and we shall have a straight road before us." "Yes," said Rachel, sighing; "I think that will be best. And perhaps, by that time, Aunt Elizabeth will let you in." "If she doesn't, I shall bombard the house." "You will be _sure_ to be back at Christmas?" "If I am alive, dear, and a free agent--certainly. And I shall find you ready for me then?" "Oh, yes!"