The quick canter of a horse, the stopping at the gate, the ringing of the bell, and the entrance of Neville, made her heart beat and her eyes light up with gladness. He entered with a lighter step, a more cheerful and animated mien, than usual. He was aware that he loved. He was assured that Elizabeth was the being selected from the whole world who could make him happy; while he regarded her with all the admiration, the worship, due to her virtues. He had never loved before. The gloom that absorbed him, the shyness inspired by his extreme sensitiveness, had hitherto made him avoid the society of women; their pleasures, their gayety, their light airy converse, were a blank to him; it was Elizabeth's sufferings that first led him to remark her: the clearness of her understanding, her simplicity, tenderness, and dignity of soul won him; and, lastly, the unbounded, undisguised sympathy she felt for his endeavours, which all else regarded as futile and insane, riveted him to her indissolubly. Events were about to separate them, but her thoughts would accompany him across the Atlantic--stand suspended while his success was dubious, and hail his triumph with a joy equal to his own. The very thought gave fresh ardour to his desire to fulfil his task; he had no doubt of success, and, though the idea of his mother's fate was still a cloud in the prospect, it only mellowed, without defacing the glowing tints shed over it by love. They met with undisguised pleasure; he sat near her, and gazed with such delight as, to one less inexperienced than Elizabeth, would have at once betrayed the secret of his heart. He told her that he had found a vessel about to sail for New-York, and that he had engaged a passage on board. He was restless and uneasy, he feared a thousand chances; he felt as if he were neglecting his most sacred duty by any delay; there was something in him urging him on, telling him that the crisis was at hand; and yet, that any neglect on his part might cause the moment to slip by for ever. When arrived at New-York, he should proceed with all speed to Washington, and then, if Osborne had not arrived, he should set forward to meet him. So much might intervene to balk his hopes! Osborne might die, and his secret die with him. Every moment's delay was crime. The vessel was to drop down the river that very night, and to-morrow he was to join her at Sheerness. He had come to say farewell.