mine is well?'

'My papa has deserted me,' said Ferdinand with a smile. 'They have not
yet arrived, and some days may yet elapse before they reach Armine.'

'Indeed! I hope they are well.'

'Yes; they are well.'

'Did you ride here?'

'No.'

'You did not walk?'

'I hardly know how I came; I believe I walked.'

'You must be very tired; and you are standing! pray sit down; sit in
that chair; you know that is your favourite chair.'

And Ferdinand seated himself in the very chair in which he had watched
her the preceding night.

'This is certainly my favourite chair,' he said; 'I know no seat in the
world I prefer to this.'

'Will you take some refreshment? I am sure you will; you must be very
tired. Take some hock; papa always takes hock and soda water. I shall
order some hock and soda water for you.' She rose and rang the bell in
spite of his remonstrance.

'And have you been walking, Miss Temple?' enquired Ferdinand.

'I was thinking of strolling now,' she replied, 'but I am glad that you
have called, for I wanted an excuse to be idle.'

An hour passed away, nor was the conversation on either side very
brilliantly supported. Ferdinand seemed dull, but, indeed, was only
moody, revolving in his mind many strange incidents and feelings, and
then turning for consolation in his perplexities to the enchanting
vision on which he still could gaze. Nor was Miss Temple either in her
usually sparkling vein; her liveliness seemed an effort; she was more
constrained, she was less fluent than before. Ferdinand, indeed, rose
more than once to depart; yet still he remained. He lost his cap;
he looked for his cap; and then again seated himself. Again he rose,
restless and disquieted, wandered about the room, looked at a picture,
plucked a flower, pulled the flower to pieces.

'Miss Temple,' he at length observed, 'I am afraid I am very stupid!'

'Because you are silent?'

'Is not that a sufficient reason?'

'Nay! I think not; I think I am rather fond of silent people myself; I
cannot bear to live with a person who feels bound to talk because he
is my companion. The whole day passes sometimes without papa and myself
exchanging fifty words; yet I am very happy; I do not feel that we are
dull:' and Miss Temple pursued her work which she had previously taken
up.

'Ah! but I am not your papa; when we are very intimate with people,
when they interest us, we are engaged with their feelings, we do not
perpetually requir