Elizabeth looked quick away, not to see anything, with the mind’s eye or any other, for a blur came over both.  She was no fainter; she was strong of mind and body; but the one and the other were shaken; and for that bit of time, and it was several minutes, her senses performed no office at all.  And when consciousness of distinct things began to come back, there came among all her other feelings an odd perverse fear of shewing the uppermost one or two, and a sort of mortified unreadiness to strike her colours and yield at once without having made a bit of fight for it.  Yet these were not the uppermost feelings, but they were there, among them and struggling with them.  She stood quite still, her face hidden by her sunbonnet, and her companion was quite still too, with her hand still in his, held in the same free light clasp; and she had a vexed consciousness of his being far the cooler of the two.  While she was thus silent, however, Elizabeth’s head, and her very figure, was bowed lower and lower with intensity of feeling.

“What is the matter?” Winthrop said; and the tone of those words conquered her.  The proud Miss Haye made a very humble answer.

“I am very glad, Mr. Landholm —­ but I am not good enough.”

“For what?”

But Elizabeth did not answer.

“I will take my risk of that,” said he kindly.  “Besides, you have confessed the power of changing.”

The risk, or something else, seemed to lie upon Elizabeth’s mind, from the efforts she was making to overcome emotion.  Winthrop observed her for a moment.

“But you have not spoken, yet,” said he.  “I want a confirmation of my grant.”

She knew from his tone that his mood was the very reverse of hers; and it roused the struggle again.  “Provoking man!” she thought, “why couldn’t he ask me in any other way! —­ And why need he smile when I am crying! —­” She commanded herself to raise her head, however, though she did not dare look.

“Am I to have it?”

“To have what?”

“An answer.”

“I don’t know what it’s to be, Mr. Landholm,” Elizabeth stammered.  “What do you want?”

“Will you give me what I asked you for?”

“I thought you knew you had it already,” she said, not a little vexed to have the words drawn from her.

“It is mine, then?”

“Yes —­”

“Then,” said he, coming in full view of her blushing face and taking the other hand, —­ “what are you troubled for?”

Elizabeth could not have borne it one instant, to meet his eye, without breaking into a flood of tears she had no hands to cover.  As her only way of escape, she sprang to one side freeing one of her hands on the sudden, and jumped down the rock, muttering something very unintelligibly about ‘breakfast.’  But her other hand was fast still, and so was she at the foot of the rock.

“Stop,” said Winthrop, —­ “we must take this basket along. —­ I don’t know if there is anything very precious in it.” —­