Not long was Emmeline's absence from Smeaton and her young cousin. She came timidly, blushingly, in all the agitation of fresh and strong feelings; but she soon became more tranquil. Dinner, according to the directions of Sir John Newark when he left, was served at the usual hour; and, when it was over, all three walked out to linger away the time in the summer eventide. After two or three turns up and down the terrace, Richard Newark seated himself upon one of the large guard-stones which marked the separation of the gravel from the turf, from which he commanded a view of two faces of the house, and there he remained for more than an hour, whistling lightly, and apparently lost in thought. Emmeline and Smeaton continued to walk up and down side by side, and their conversation was carried on in tones too low to be heard from the windows of the house. Had any one been watching them, well skilled in the outward signs and symptoms of the sweet madness, he might have divined by the look of tenderness, by the sudden changes of expression, by Smeaton's bended head, by Emmeline's faltering and agitated step, and by the frequent raising of a bright and sparkling look to her companion's face, that he talked of love, and that she listened to him, well pleased. So, indeed, it was. He led her on, step by step, word by word, himself led on by the growing passion in his own heart. All was said between them which could be said; and, before that walk was half over, they were plighted to each other, not only in heart and affection, but by words and vows. It might be somewhat sudden; but--as I have endeavoured often enough before to make the reader comprehend--there is no such thing as time. The flowing of events constitutes what we call time. The revolution of the earth round its axis--man's day--is the measure which we have capriciously adopted to mete the passing stream; but how inadequate is that measure to express the value of the thing measured! 'Tis just as if we should sell at the same price the yard of cloth of gold and the yard of dull serge. The events of one day are not more like the events of another than those two woofs. Thoughts and feelings are also events--the events of the mind and soul; and, measured by them, how long a space had Smeaton known Emmeline! The last four-and-twenty hours to both had been a life-time. Cleared of the great mistake regarding time, they had not loved suddenly.