“But does that hinder disagreeables from being disagreeables?” said Elizabeth with some impatience of tone.  “Does that hinder aches from being pain?”

“Hardly.  But I believe it stops or soothes the aching.  I believe it, because I have seen it.”

Elizabeth stood still, her bosom swelling, and that fluttering of her throat growing more fluttering.  It got beyond her command.  The mixed passions and vexations, and with them a certain softer and more undefined regret, reached a point where she had no control over them.  The tears would come, and once arrived at that, they took their own way; with such a rush of passionate indulgence, that a thought of the time and the place and the witness, made nothing, or came in only to swell the rush.  The flood poured over the barrier with such joy at being set free, that it carried all before it.  Elizabeth was just conscious of being placed on a seat, near to which it happened that she was standing; and she knew nothing more.  She did not even know how completely she was left to herself.  Not till the fever of passion was brought a little down, and recollection and shame began to take their turn, and she checked her tears and stole a secret glance around to see what part of the gravel walk supported a certain pair of feet, for higher than the ground she dared not look.  Her surprise was a good deal to find that her glance must take quite a wide range to meet with them; and then venturing a single upward look, she saw that her companion standing at a little distance was not watching her, nor apparently had been; his attitude bespoke him quietly fixed upon something else and awaiting her leisure.  Elizabeth brought her eyes home again.

“What a strange young man!” was her quick thought; —­ “to have been brought up a farmer’s boy, and to know enough and to dare enough to put me on this seat, and then to have the wit to go off and stand there in that manner!”

But this tribute of respect to Winthrop was instantly followed by an endeavour to do herself honour, in the way of gaining self-possession and her ordinary looks as speedily as possible.  She commanded herself well after once she got the reins in hand; yet however it was with a grave consciousness of swollen eyes and flushed cheeks that she presently rose from her place and went forward to the side of the quiet figure that stood there with folded arms watching the rolling waters of the bay.  Elizabeth stood at his elbow a minute in hesitation.

“I am ready now, Mr. Landholm.  I am sorry I have kept you by my ridiculousness.”

“I have not been kept beyond my pleasure,” he said.

“I lost command of myself,” Elizabeth went on.  “That happens to me once in a while.”

“You will feel better for it,” he said, as they turned and began to walk homewards.

“He takes things coolly!” thought Elizabeth.

“Do you men ever lose command of yourselves?”