"And when will he return?" inquired I, gently. She smiled, almost blushed, and then, with a look that seemed to say, Do not laugh at me, she replied, "_This evening!_" Notwithstanding her imploring glance, I could not repress a smile. Just then a servant brought Mr Meredith's horse to the door. Eva rose from her seat, went out into the garden, approached the horse, and, whilst stroking his mane, bowed her head upon the animal's neck, perhaps to conceal the tear that fell from her eyes. William came out, threw himself lightly into the saddle, and gently raised his wife's head. "Silly girl!" said he, with love in his eyes and voice. And he kissed her brow. "William, we have never yet been so many hours apart!" Mr Meredith stooped his head towards that of Eva, and imprinted a second kiss upon her beautiful golden hair; then he touched his horse's flank with the spur, and set off at a gallop. I am convinced that he, too, was a little moved. Nothing is so contagious as the weakness of those we love; tears summon tears, and it is no very laudable courage that keeps our eyes dry by the side of a weeping friend. I turned my steps homeward, and, once more in my cottage, I set myself to meditate on the happiness of loving. I asked myself if an Eva would ever cheer my poor dwelling. I did not think of examining whether I were worthy to be loved. When we behold two beings thus devoted to each other, we easily discern that it is not for good and various reasons that they love so well; they love because it is necessary, inevitable; they love on account of their own hearts, not of those of others. Well, I thought how I might seek and find a heart that had need to love, just as, in my morning walks, I might have thought to meet, by the road-side, some flower of sweet perfume. Thus did I muse, although it is perhaps a wrong feeling which makes us, at sight of others' bliss, deplore the happiness we do not ourselves possess. Is not a little envy there? and if joy could be stolen like gold, should we not then be near a larceny? The day passed, and I had just completed my frugal supper, when I received a message from Mrs Meredith, begging me to visit her. In five minutes I was at the door of the white cottage. I found Eva, still alone, seated on a sofa, without work or book, pale and trembling. "Come, doctor, come," said she, in her soft voice; "I can remain alone no longer; see how late it is!--he should have been home two hours ago, and has not yet returned!" I was surprised at Mr Meredith's prolonged absence; but, to comfort his wife, I replied quietly, "How can we tell the time necessary to transact his business? They may have made him wait; the notary was perhaps absent. There were papers to draw up and sign."