"Certainly not," replied Smeaton, frankly. "Let things take their course; only ascertain as soon as possible what he really does do; and, in the mean time, dear Emmeline, let me beseech you to cast away all restraint towards me. It is needful to you and to your own future fate now, and I feel it is needful to me and my happiness, that you should give me every opportunity of speaking to you, consulting with you, advising you in private. Though _I_, perhaps, must find the opportunities, you must aid me to take advantage of them. Much must be decided within the next two or three weeks, and upon what is decided all the future course of your life will depend--and mine also," he added, in a lower voice. "Ay, and of mine also." Before she could reply, the latch of the door was raised, and Richard Newark entered the room, with a slow and thoughtful pace, very different from his light irregular walk. Emmeline drew a step back; but Smeaton remained exactly where he was, without the slightest change of look or manner, while the boy advanced into the room, humming to himself the snatch of some old song, as if wrapped up in his own thoughts, and hardly conscious that anybody was there. "Well, Richard," said Smeaton, "where have you been wandering?" "I have been upon the terrace for the last five minutes," replied the lad, simply. "That I know," rejoined Smeaton. "We saw your shadow on the floor." "Indeed!" exclaimed Richard Newark, evidently with some surprise. "I thought you did not see me; but this preposterous knob between my two shoulders, filled with all sorts of things that never get into other people's heads, betrays me, I suppose, wherever I go. Well, never mind! What matters it to me if nightingales will sit and sing on the edge of a hawk's nest? It is no matter of mine, and I can keep things to myself as well as my elders and my betters. Only, 'ware the springe, noble Colonel. Woodcocks have put their necks into a noose before now." Emmeline and her lover, for so I think I may now venture to call him, looked at each other, as if uncertain how to act; but then, starting forward, with her wild grace, the beautiful girl laid her hand upon her cousin's arm, saying-- "Do you not love me, Richard? Have you not said that, if you were my brother, you could not love me more?" The boy's whole manner was changed in a moment. "That I do, Emmeline," he cried, catching her hand in his, and holding out his other hand to Smeaton. "I love you both, and will do anything I can to serve you. Trust to me, trust to me, and don't be a bit afraid. I will find means to help you at a pinch. I know that my brain is somewhat askew; but that is not my fault, and there is some wit within, though it lies in odd corners. For your sake, Emmeline, and for yours too, Smeaton, I will rummage it out, and try if I cannot make it serviceable. I will do you no harm, if I cannot do you good." "Take care of that, Richard," said Smeaton, gravely.