"Give up your ride this morning, to oblige me," I said to her, with
a certain tone of impatience in my voice that could not escape her.

She looked at me in surprise and silence as she played with her
riding-whip.

"You can take your ride an hour later," I insisted.

"I have a long ride before me, and I must be back before dinner."

"Then put it off until to-morrow. This is the first opportunity we
have had to take a long walk since your grandfather fell ill. Don't
refuse me this pleasure."

"You always like to disarrange my plans, Leo."

"To-day I have good reasons for doing so, Francis; believe me,
to-morrow it will be too late."

"Really? Your words sound threatening," she said, attempting to
smile. "Well, you shall have your way," and she threw aside her
riding-whip pettishly. "You'll have to wait until I change my dress;
I cannot walk in my riding-habit."

Tancredo was sent back to the stable, and in much less time
than I could have imagined my cousin reappeared in a very neat
walking-costume.

"And where shall we go?" she asked.

"Well, into the wood, I suppose."

"That's right, the weather is splendid: we can walk as far as the round
point, and rest there on the rustic bench which you perhaps remember."

And so we walked through the great lane towards the wood, silent, just
because we had so much to say to each other. I had resolved to speak;
but I could not decide in my own mind how to begin the subject. She
herself seemed to have a thousand other things to talk about beside
the one I wished to come to. At length I tried to change the subject
by saying it would be necessary for me to fix a day for my return to
the Hague.

"I was expecting it, Leopold."

"And are you sorry I am going away?"

"I ought to say 'No,' by way of opposition, which is the only suitable
answer to such a foolish question."

"But I--will come back, if you would like it."

"No, Leopold, I should not like it. And I still believe you would
have done better to go away the day I first advised you to do so."

"Have I been a burden to you, Francis?"

"You know better than that. You know I have much to thank you for: you
have stood by me in days of suffering, and borne my troubles with me;
you have been open, frank, and obliging with me; in a word, you have
spoilt me, and I shall feel my loneliness doubled when you are gone."

"Not for long, though, for I will come back soon--with--with a
trousseau!"

"And, in the na