"It is an enigma I cannot solve," she answered. "I have tried to do so a thousand times, but in vain. Whichever way my eyes turn, it is all darkness; and, weary with straining my sight upon the blank obscure, I have given it up, reduced to remain satisfied with knowing nothing but--which is perhaps as much as most persons know of themselves--that I am. But what is it puzzles _you_ about me? What have you seen or remarked to make you believe that there is any mystery?" "Much," he replied; "the very circumstances in which I first saw you--an attempt to carry you off forcibly from the midst of your family and friends--the constant feverish sort of anxiety displayed by Sir John Newark in regard to you--his unwillingness to suffer you to hold communication of any kind with persons out of his own house." "Is he unwilling?" exclaimed Emmeline, eagerly. "I do not think it--yet, perhaps you are right," she added gravely. "I remember--perhaps you are right. I do not recollect ever having been suffered to converse alone with any one except the people of the house, and good Doctor Boothe, who is dead. It is strange! I do not attempt to conceal from you that there is a mystery, even to myself." "And you have tried to solve it, unassisted?" inquired Smeaton. "Often and often," she answered. "Oh, what would I give to know who were my parents--what I am--what are the causes of all this anxiety about me! I have tried, but tried in vain." "Perhaps I can assist you," said Smeaton, in a lower tone than ever. "Nay, do not start, and look round at me. Those men behind must not see that there is anything more than ordinary in our talk. Now, let us have a gallop, if you will. I have ventured to open a subject with you, somewhat abruptly, which I have in vain sought an opportunity of touching upon from the first moment of my arrival. We must take opportunity when we find it. Now, shake your rein, dear lady. Give your jennet her head, and let us cast these ideas from us, for a moment or two. They will return before the end of our ride." "They will not be shaken from me, let me gallop as I will," replied Emmeline. "However, let us forward." And, touching her horse lightly with her riding-whip, she bounded away some paces before her companion. Smeaton was at her side again in a moment, however; and, when she turned her eyes towards him, as he came up sitting his horse with calm and quiet ease, motionless in the saddle, as if he were a part of the noble animal itself, she could not help thinking him the handsomest man she had ever beheld in her life; and so indeed he was.