Mary smiled upon him, as if she needed no other excuse. "How well you look, Mary!" Eugene continued, gazing on the countenance of his companion, lit up, as it was, by the glow of animated pleasure, "happier, better, than when I saw you last--too well, I am almost tempted to think, and too happy, considering the circumstances of our case. I--you must allow, look far less so." Mary gazed with tender anxiety into her lover's face. Was she then really to suppose that the change she remarked upon his handsome countenance, since the happy Silverton days, was caused by his love for her? The haggard cheek--the restless, unhealthful fire which burnt in those dark eyes! A thrill of womanly pleasure was mixed with the tender pain the idea inspired. "You certainly do not look as well as when at Silverton," she answered with a gentle sigh, as the many associations those words conjured up, rose before her; "but your expedition to the Moors will do you so much good. If you have been in London all this time, I do not wonder at your feeling ill. As for my looks," she added, "no doubt at this moment they are bright and happy--you must not judge of them in general from their appearance now, not that I mean to say I am not happier, and perhaps therefore looking better than when you saw me last--for then--all was doubt, and dread, and uncertainty, and I was very miserable--but now since all that was removed, I have been happy--yes, truly happy in comparison; though at times I fear I am inclined to be sad and impatient-hearted. I was spoilt at first by too much unalloyed happiness, and it is hard to resign oneself to the long and unbroken separation, I had thought ours must be, but there is the happy prospect at the end--and this year, long and weary as it may seem--must pass away like any other." "This year--yes!" murmured Eugene abstractedly, gazing on the sweet earnest countenance of the good and gentle speaker--"yes, this year," he repeated with an impatient flash suddenly lighting up his eyes; "but you should have been my wife now, Mary," and lowering his voice, "you _would_ have been, if you had loved me, as I thought you did, and had not cut so short what I proposed doing during that drive in London." Mary looked startled and surprised. "Eugene!" she said, "I know you do not mean what you say--you never, but in the madness and misery of the moment, could have suggested such an alternative." "Why not, dear Mary?" "Why?" with gentle reproach. "Why--for every reason, Eugene." "Every one is not so scrupulous as yourself, Mary. Olivia thought it a great pity we did not avail ourselves of that expedient; she would have assisted us in every way." "What, Eugene--you really went so far as to consult with a third person, on such a subject." "Oh! Olivia and I, you know, are sworn allies; besides, I believe it was she who suggested the idea. Ladies are always the first to originate mischievous designs in our unlucky brains." Mary shook her head.