"Why so?" demanded the lad. "The bird was mine. He was given to me, and I had a right to do what I liked with him. Well, Emmy," he continued, after a moment or two, "we have heard nothing of Smeaton, and a dull ride we have had of it. So I left my daddy to trot on his way, and came back." Emmeline was silent; for she did not wish to speak upon the subject of her lover at all; but Richard went on in a rambling sort of tone, saying, "Ay, dull enough it was; and, while we were waiting for Tom Higham's coming back, my father had some serious conversation with me, as he calls it. I hate serious conversation, Emmy." "But you should always attend to what your father says to you, Richard," observed Emmeline, "and to everything that he tells you, _which is right_." The last words were uttered after a moment's pause, and in a lower tone. "Very true," replied Richard, half laughing. "What you say is always true, Emmy, but the worst of it is--I suppose the soft place in my brain prevents it--my father and I can never agree upon what is quite right. The fact is, dear girl, I see one side, and he sees the other, as the old story-book has it; and, if one side is black, and the other side is white, we can never agree in opinion. Do you know what he was telling me to-day? "No, indeed," answered Emmeline. "I cannot conceive." "Why, he was telling me," said Richard, looking down and speaking in an absent manner--"he was telling me that he intended me to marry you and you to marry me; that it must be; that the fate and fortune of us both depended upon it." Emmeline trembled violently; and, as the shoulder of Richard Newark rested against her arm, he felt how much agitation his words produced. The moment after, Emmeline felt his hand laid gently upon hers, and she asked, in a low voice, "What did you say to him, Richard?" "Nothing much to the purpose," replied Richard; "for he set all my thoughts rambling and galloping like huntsmen at the field-halloo. I laughed and talked as if I had been very happy; but I was thinking all the time, Emmeline. First, I thought (what I never thought of before) how very happy it would be to marry you--and how you might make anything you liked of me--and what a changed being I should be if you were my wife--and how dearly I should love you--and how I _do_ love you--and a great many other foolish things. Nay, don't shake, dear Emmy! There is no fear with your own poor Dick." "I am not afraid, Dick," responded Emmeline, pressing the hand he had laid upon hers; "for I know right well that, whatever faults your head may have, your heart has none." "That's a good girl," returned Richard Newark. "Well, I thought a great deal more still. After all these foolish things had had their gallop, I thought I would not marry you for the whole world; or if all the kings and queens in the world were to try to force us." "Indeed, Richard?" said Emmeline, with a faint smile. "You had good reasons, doubtless."