Lucy became thoughtful, and she moved the grass at her feet with the end of her parasol, ere she replied.

“The one exception was Emily Merton; and the short period terminated when I saw you together, in your own house.  When I first saw Emily Merton, I thought her more worthy of your love than I could possibly be; and I fancied it impossible that you could have lived so long in a ship together, without discovering each other’s merits.  But, when I was placed with you both, under the same roof, I soon ascertained that, while your imagination had been a little led aside, your heart was always true to me.”

“Is this possible, Lucy!  Are women really so much more discriminating, so much more accurate in their opinions, than us men?  While I was ready to hang myself for jealousy of Andrew Drewett, did you really know that my heart was entirely yours?”

“I was not without misgivings, Miles, and sometimes those that were keenly painful; but, on the whole, I will not say I felt my power, but that I felt we were dear to each other.”

“Did you never suppose, as your excellent father has done, that we were too much like brother and sister, to become lovers—­too much accustomed to be dear to each other as children, to submit to passion?  For that which I feel for you, Lucy, I do not pretend to dignify with the name of esteem, and respect, and affection—­it is a passion, that will form the misery, or happiness of my life.”

Lucy smiled archly, and again the end of her parasol played with the grass that grew around the rock on which we were seated.

“How could I think this for you,” she said, “when I had a contrary experience of my own constantly present, Miles?  I saw that you thought there was some difference of condition between us, (silly fellow!) and I felt persuaded you had only your own diffidence to overcome, to tell your own story.”

“And knowing and seeing all this, cruel Lucy, why did you suffer years of cruel, cruel doubt to hang over me?”

“Was it a woman’s part to speak, Miles?  I endeavoured to act naturally,—­believe I did act naturally,—­and I left the rest to God.  Blessed be his mercy, I am rewarded!”

I folded Lucy to my heart, and, passing a moment of sweet sympathy in the embrace, we both began to talk of other things, as if mutually conscious that our feelings were too high-wrought for the place in which we were.  I inquired as to the condition of things at Clawbonny, and was gratified with the report.  Everybody expected me.  I had no tenantry to come forth to meet me,—­nor were American tenants much addicted to such practices, even when they were to be found:  though the miserable sophistry on the subject of landlord and tenant,—­one of the most useful and humanizing relations of civilized life,—­did not then exist among us, that I am sorry to find is now getting into vogue.  In that day, it was not thought ‘liberty’ to violate the fair covenants of a lease; and attempts to cheat a landed proprietor out of his rights were called cheating, as they ought to be—­and they were called nothing else.