"Yes--no--I had, but the fresh air has cured it, as I thought it would." "Then you would not mind staying out a little longer?" He had thought, suddenly, that it would be easier for him to speak there than in her uncles house. Ada hesitated a little. Each had their own anxieties as to what was coming, and she was divided between dread of the conversation and a wish to keep her lover in a good-humour by yielding. "It is getting late," she said slowly. "But it is not cold. Come to the edge of the canal, and see that Norwegian schooner unloading." "Very well," Ada said, hoping to charm him by her acquiescence. They went to the edge of the wharf, at a little distance from the vessel, where there were men working at cranes, and great planks of deal from northern forests lifted and dropped on shore among the coils of rope, and sailors and boys who were lounging about and looking. Sometimes one comes upon a little scene of bustle like this, which yet lies under a strange hush. For a soft greyness had veiled all colour in the distant moors, a line of cloud as soft and as grey resting at a little height above them. Between cloud and hill the sun was sinking, a mighty ball of fire, throwing out no perceptible rays, but a ruddy glory, which rose behind the greyness, spread over the western heavens, and faded in a clear bright sky, softened by vapoury lines of cloud. The light was repeated in the water of the canal with a grave, gentle solemnity; there were groups of masts, rounded lines of boats, and, slowly moving out of sight, one tawny sail on its way to the river. Nothing could break the hush of departure which rested on the water, the quiet meadows, the hills, the changing sky--Anthony, who was always quickly affected by external influences, now that he had drawn Ada to the water's brink, found it strangely difficult to enter on the subject which a few hours ago had come shaped to his thoughts in burning words; the soft melancholy of the time made it hard to say anything which should give pain, and yet how was it possible to speak without sharp pain to himself and to her? Ada, meanwhile, who knew more than he did about the meeting between herself and Mr Warren, was for once a little shaken from her self-complacency; the young fellow had said some foolish words about his return, and she had walked along the road by which she knew he might be expected, with a pretence of wonder when she saw him coming; and now she was turning in her mind what she was to say, and feeling sure that this was the reason of Anthony's abstraction. Her own silence was unusual to her, but she had a perception that, her position would be bettered by his opening the attack, and his first words unconsciously added to her impression, although he only spoke them out of that fencing with ourselves with which we try to postpone a difficult task. "Had you been out long, Ada, when I met you with Warren?"