"Then--then--I have the honor--the pleasure--of being your cousin."

The young man had so much the character of an apparition that this
announcement seemed to complete his unreality. "What cousin? Who are
you?" said Gertrude.

He stepped back a few paces and looked up at the house; then glanced
round him at the garden and the distant view. After this he burst out
laughing. "I see it must seem to you very strange," he said. There was,
after all, something substantial in his laughter. Gertrude looked at him
from head to foot. Yes, he was remarkably handsome; but his smile was
almost a grimace. "It is very still," he went on, coming nearer again.
And as she only looked at him, for reply, he added, "Are you all alone?"

"Every one has gone to church," said Gertrude.

"I was afraid of that!" the young man exclaimed. "But I hope you are not
afraid of me."

"You ought to tell me who you are," Gertrude answered.

"I am afraid of you!" said the young man. "I had a different plan. I
expected the servant would take in my card, and that you would put your
heads together, before admitting me, and make out my identity."

Gertrude had been wondering with a quick intensity which brought
its result; and the result seemed an answer--a wondrous, delightful
answer--to her vague wish that something would befall her. "I know--I
know," she said. "You come from Europe."