Emmeline mused for a moment or two with her eyes cast down; and then, looking up again, she said-- "Then your name is not Smeaton really?" "No, indeed," he replied. "My name is Eskdale. But let me explain to you. It is not at all an uncommon custom now, amongst the many who have been driven forth by the rebellions and revolutions in this land, to assume a name different from their own when entering the service of foreign states. Thus, while I have been in the Austrian army, warring in Spain and Italy, I took the name of Henry Smeaton, rose in the service under that name, and never dropped it until my father's death, somewhat more than a year ago. I have with me my commission, granted under that name, and many papers and letters, all addressed to me, or speaking of me, as Colonel Henry Smeaton; so that the title was not merely assumed for the present occasion. But here comes your young cousin, I think, to meet us. His fishing expedition, it would seem, is soon over." "Poor boy!" replied Emmeline. "He is so volatile, he can pursue nothing long. I do not think he is so much without ability as he seems, for occasionally his thoughts are very bright and fanciful. But it is the power of fixing his attention that he wants. Of that he is utterly devoid, and it is the secret of his great deficiency." A moment or two after, they were joined by Richard Newark, who exclaimed, in a joyful voice--"I am glad I have found you before my father comes back; for, after we had fished for an hour, I got in a fright, remembering what he had said about not leaving you, Emmy. So I got a horse, and galloped all the way here, thinking every minute I should see him riding back with you. So you must hold your tongue, Emmy, and not let him know that I have been away at all." All conversation now ended for the time between Emmeline and Smeaton, for the boy's presence was of course a restraint, and the minds of both rested thoughtfully on the subjects of deeper interest of which they had been lately talking. This continued till they reached the mansion; but there they found Sir John Newark had not yet returned, and some time was destined to pass before he again appeared on the scene. CHAPTER IX. Emmeline had retired to change her dress. Richard had gone, Heaven knows whither; and Smeaton, after pausing for a few minutes in the hall, seemingly very busy in examining the suits of old armour which had hung there since the days of Elizabeth, but in reality seeing none of them with the mind's eye, though he moved round from one to the other merely like a piece of mechanism, at length walked up the stairs to the two rooms which, as I have said, had been appropriated to his use. We must draw the curtain of the breast and look in; not perhaps tracing thought by thought--who can, even when he looks into his own heart?--but giving such glimpses as may show sufficiently what was passing within.