But Emily Hotspur, though she had been thus reticent and quiet in her joy, though she was resolved to be discreet, and knew that there were circumstances in her engagement which would for a while deter her from being with her accepted lover as other girls are with theirs, did not mean to estrange herself from her cousin George. If she were to do so, how was she to assist, and take, as she hoped to do, the first part in that task of refining the gold on which they were all now intent? She was to correspond with him when he was at Scarrowby. Such was her present programme, and Sir Harry had made no objection when she declared her purpose. Of course they must understand each other, and have communion together. On the third day, therefore, it was arranged they two should walk, without other company, about the place. She must show him her own gardens, which were at some distance from the house. If the truth be told, it must be owned that George somewhat dreaded the afternoon's amusement; but had she demanded of him to sit down to listen to her while she read to him a sermon, he would not have refused. To be didactic and at the same time demonstrative of affection is difficult, even with mothers towards their children, though with them the assumption of authority creates no sense of injury. Emily specially desired to point out to the erring one the paths of virtue, and yet to do so without being oppressive. "It is so nice to have you here, George," she said. "Yes, indeed; isn't it?" He was walking beside her, and as yet they were within view of the house. "Papa has been so good; isn't he good?" "Indeed he is. The best man I know out," said George, thinking that his gratitude would have been stronger had the Baronet given him the money and allowed him to go up to London to settle his own debts. "And Mamma has been so kind! Mamma is very fond of you. I am sure she would do anything for you." "And you?" said George, looking into her face. "I!--As for me, George, it is a matter of course now. You do not want to be told again what is and ever must be my first interest in the world." "I do not care how often you tell me." "But you know it; don't you?" "I know what you said at the waterfall, Emily." "What I said then I said for always. You may be sure of that. I told Mamma so, and Papa. If they had not wanted me to love you, they should not have asked you to come here. I do love you, and I hope that some day I may be your wife." She was not leaning on his arm, but as she spoke she stopped, and looked stedfastly into his face. He put out his hand as though to take hers; but she shook her head, refusing it. "No, George; come on. I want to talk to you a great deal. I want to say ever so much,--now, to-day. I hope that some day I may be your wife. If I am not, I shall never be any man's wife." "What does some day mean, Emily?" "Ever so long;--years, perhaps."