The sunbeam passed, and soon the lesson was finished, and with it the desire for those things which are not yet, faded from Emma’s eyes, leaving in the mind of the man who watched her a picture that could never fade.
At lunch Ellen, who had been sitting silent, suddenly awoke from her reverie and asked Emma what she would like to do that afternoon. Emma replied that she wished to take a walk if it were convenient to everybody else.
“That will do very well,” said Ellen with decision. “My brother can escort you down to the Cliff: there is a good view of the sea there; and after church I will come to meet you. We cannot miss each other, as there is only one road.”
Henry was about to rebel, for when Ellen issued her orders in this fashion she invariably excited an opposition in his breast which was sometimes unreasonable; but glancing at Miss Levinger’s face he noticed that she seemed pleased at the prospect of a walk, or of his company, he could not tell which, and held his peace.
“That will be very pleasant,” said Emma, “if it does not bore you.”
“Not at all; the sea never bores me,” replied Henry. “I will be ready at three o’clock if that suits you.”
“I must say that you are polite, Henry,” put in his sister in a sarcastic voice. “If I were Miss Levinger I would walk by myself and leave you to contemplate the ocean in solitude.”
“I am sure I did not mean to be otherwise, Ellen,” he replied. “There is nothing wrong in saying that one likes the sea.”
At this moment Lady Graves intervened with some tact, and the subject dropped.
About three o’clock Henry found Emma waiting for him in the hall, and they started on their walk.