She little knew, penetrating even as she was, that those young affections were already unconsciously engaged, that one manly figure, one melancholy yet expressive face utterly prevented the reception of any other.

Emmeline knew not herself the extent of influence that secret image had obtained; she guessed not the whole truth until that night when her marriage had been jestingly alluded to, and then it burst upon her, stunning her young mind with a sense of scarcely-defined yet most painful consciousness.

Arthur Myrvin had looked to Emmeline's return to Oakwood with many mingled feelings; she might be perhaps, even as her sister, a betrothed bride; he might have to witness, perhaps to officiate at her nuptials; he might see her courted, receiving attentions from and bestowing smiles on others, not casting one look or one thought on him, who for her would have gladly died.

The idea was agony, and it was the sufferings occasioned by the anticipation of ideal misery that had produced the change in face and form which Herbert had beheld and regretted.
They met, and as if fortune favoured their secret but mutual affection, alone, the first time since Emmeline had returned from London.
Unaccustomed to control, and at that time quite unconscious she had anything to conceal, though wondering why every pulse should throb, and her cheek so flush and pale, her agitation of manner, her expressed and evidently felt sorrow for the traces of suffering she beheld, sunk as balm on the sorrowing heart of the young man, and his first three or four interviews with her were productive of a happiness so exquisite, that it almost succeeded in banishing his gloom; but short indeed was that period of relief.

Speedily he saw her, as he had expected, surrounded by gay young men of wealth and station.