His companion betook himself to the stable-yard of the mansion, to give directions regarding the horses, and all the little preparations for the proposed expedition; and then, putting on the great riding-boots of the day, he returned to the terrace to wait for Emmeline. It was not long ere she joined him, gay, smiling, and happy at the thought of a pleasant excursion. She looked round for Richard, however, and asked where he was; and, when Smeaton told her that he had declined being of the party, a grave look of anxiety and hesitation came over her face. "Sir John Newark," she said, after a moment's pause, "does not like me to go far or into any town without the old housekeeper accompanying me." Her companion smiled, answering gaily: "But we are going to a church, not to a town; and, on this occasion, you must let me act the old woman." A joke often prevails where an argument will not. The horses were brought round; Smeaton placed his fair companion in the saddle; and away they went, at a quiet and easy pace, with the three men following them. He was an excellent and graceful horseman, and not unwilling to enjoy, from time to time, the exhilarating sensations of a wild gallop over the green turf; but, for some reason or other, he did not seem, on this occasion, disposed to put the horses out of a quiet canter. Down the stony road he proceeded at a walk, and only quickened his pace a very little when, turning to the left at the end of the wood, they got upon the downs. But Smeaton was a good tactician, and he had his reasons for what he did. Emmeline did not know that such was the case, however; and she grew a little impatient. "Shall we not have a gallop?" she asked, at length, after some broken conversation on indifferent subjects. "Presently," answered Smeaton, in a quiet tone. "One cannot gallop and think calmly too." "Think!" echoed Emmeline, gaily. "Why should you think, Colonel Smeaton? Thinking is the most pernicious thing on earth; and what gentleman has any right to think with a lady by his side?" "It is impossible to help thinking, and deeply too, with you by my side," answered Smeaton, in a low voice. Emmeline almost started--it sounded so like a compliment; but Smeaton was not a complimentary person, as she had remarked with pleasure; and she replied, after turning an inquiring glance towards him, in the same light tone, "Why so? do you judge me such an enigma?" "Not yourself," answered Smeaton gravely, "but your fate and history are an enigma." He paused for a moment, and then added: "For yourself, dear lady, your character is as clear and pure as a diamond, which, if we do not see through it at once, it is because of its too much light; but your history, your circumstances, your fate, do constitute an enigma, which might well make any man of heart and feeling thoughtful." He spoke very low; but every word fell clear and distinct upon Emmeline's ear, and instantly banished her gaiety.