Graye had been requested by the architect to survey a plot of land nearly twenty miles off, which, with the journey to and fro, would occupy him the whole day, and prevent his returning till late in the evening.  Cytherea made a companion of her landlady to the extent of sharing meals and sitting with her during the morning of her brother’s absence.  Mid-day found her restless and miserable under this arrangement.  All the afternoon she sat alone, looking out of the window for she scarcely knew whom, and hoping she scarcely knew what.  Half-past five o’clock came—­the end of Springrove’s official day.  Two minutes later Springrove walked by.

She endured her solitude for another half-hour, and then could endure no longer.  She had hoped—­while affecting to fear—­that Edward would have found some reason or other for calling, but it seemed that he had not.  Hastily dressing herself she went out, when the farce of an accidental meeting was repeated.  Edward came upon her in the street at the first turning, and, like the Great Duke Ferdinand in ’The Statue and the Bust’—­

   ’He looked at her as a lover can;
   She looked at him as one who awakes—­
   The past was a sleep, and her life began.’

‘Shall we have a boat?’ he said impulsively.

How blissful it all is at first.  Perhaps, indeed, the only bliss in the course of love which can truly be called Eden-like is that which prevails immediately after doubt has ended and before reflection has set in—­at the dawn of the emotion, when it is not recognized by name, and before the consideration of what this love is, has given birth to the consideration of what difficulties it tends to create; when on the man’s part, the mistress appears to the mind’s eye in picturesque, hazy, and fresh morning lights, and soft morning shadows; when, as yet, she is known only as the wearer of one dress, which shares her own personality; as the stander in one special position, the giver of one bright particular glance, and the speaker of one tender sentence; when, on her part, she is timidly careful over what she says and does, lest she should be misconstrued or under-rated to the breadth of a shadow of a hair.

‘Shall we have a boat?’ he said again, more softly, seeing that to his first question she had not answered, but looked uncertainly at the ground, then almost, but not quite, in his face, blushed a series of minute blushes, left off in the midst of them, and showed the usual signs of perplexity in a matter of the emotions.

Owen had always been with her before, but there was now a force of habit in the proceeding, and with Arcadian innocence she assumed that a row on the water was, under any circumstances, a natural thing.  Without another word being spoken on either side, they went down the steps.  He carefully handed her in, took his seat, slid noiselessly off the sand, and away from the shore.