nor of regret. At the first touch of hands, when we stood together,
alone, she said, 'Would hearing of your recovery have given me peace?'
My privileges were the touch of hands, the touch of her fingers to my
lips, a painless hearing and seeing, and passionate recollection. She
said, 'Impatience is not for us, Harry': I was not to see her again
before the evening. These were the last words she said, and seemed the
lightest until my hot brain made a harvest of them transcending thrice-
told vows of love. Did they not mean, 'We two wait': therefore, 'The
years are bondmen to our stedfastness.' Could sweeter have been said?
They might mean nothing!

She was veiled when Janet drove her out; Janet sitting upright in
her masterly way, smoothing her pet ponies with the curl of her whip,
chatting and smiling; the princess slightly leaning back. I strode up
to the country roads, proud of our land's beauty under a complacent sky.
By happy chance, which in a generous mood I ascribed to Janet's good
nature, I came across them at a seven miles' distance. They were talking
spiritedly: what was wonderful, they gave not much heed to me: they
seemed on edge for one another's conversation: each face was turned to
the other's, and after nodding an adieu, they resumed the animated
discourse. I had been rather in alarm lest Ottilia should think little
of Janet. They passed out of sight without recurring to a thought of me
behind them.

In the evening I was one among a group of ladies. I had the opportunity
of hearing the running interchange between Ottilia and Janet, which
appeared to be upon equal terms; indeed, Janet led. The subjects were
not very deep. Plain wits, candour, and an unpretending tongue, it
seemed, could make common subjects attractive, as fair weather does our
English woods and fields. The princess was attracted by something in