And what were Hilda's thoughts all this time? She said to herself that there was a sensation in her heart which she had never known till now: a lightness, a fulness, and yet a fear: it affected her voice, so that she found it difficult to speak evenly or to breathe as regularly as usual, or to keep under control the blood that sought her cheeks. Moreover, a smile was ever attempting to manifest itself on her lips, without her being able to account to herself satisfactorily for its being there. She told herself that this was very silly; but its being silly did not prevent it from being rather pleasant. Another singularity in her sensations was, that she felt a great tenderness and affection for the world at large. Everything seemed kind to her, and considerate of her happiness. There was a bird up somewhere in the branches of the Oak that sang just the kind of song that she would have liked to sing, if she had known how. Surely the sunshine need not have fallen with such mellow radiance of warm colour on the grass and on the grey Tower, if it had not wished to do her an especial favour: surely the sea need not have murmured with such languorous sweetness beneath the cliff, if it had not wished to echo the inarticulate harmony that whispered in her own soul. And, by the way (not that this had anything to do with it), what a delightful voice Captain Bramston had, and what a noble countenance, and what a gentle and withal spirited expression, and what a picturesque way of leaning against the trunk of the Oak, and of occasionally moving his hand when he spoke, and of throwing back his head when he laughed. What a strange freak of destiny to bring this young hero all round the world to sit here at her feet at last, and make a summer afternoon so memorable! It was a remarkably brief afternoon, however, and once gone it would never return. It would never return. There was a sweet pain in that reflection--the sweeter the more painful. Yes, Captain Bramston would ride away by-and-by, and he would never come back. Why should he come back? There could never be such another afternoon: there could never be such another Captain Bramston: there could never be such another longing, and tenderness, and fear as abode now in Hilda's heart. Such things, such times, came once and came no more. As Hilda said this to herself, she felt quite melancholy in the midst of her happiness; and soft tears stood in her eyes as she looked seaward.