Perhaps, had the interview been prolonged, the cousins might have separated with a better understanding of each other than was expressed in that cold, ceremonious adieu with which they parted.
Smythje and Kate Vaughan were once more alone upon the summit of the rock; and the supercilious lover was now free to continue the declaration.
One might suppose that he would have instantly dropped back upon his knees, and finished the performance so vexatiously interrupted.
Not so, however. The spirit of Smythje’s dream seemed equally to have undergone a change; as if he, too, had seen something.
His air of high confidence had departed, as also the climax on which he had counted: for the sun’s disc was now quite clear of the eclipse, and the pretty speeches, intended for an anterior time, would now have been pointless and inappropriate.
Whether it was this that influenced him, or a presentiment that the offer of his heart and hand might just then stand some chance of a rejection, can never be known: since Smythje, who alone could divulge it, has left no record of the reason.
Certain it is, however, that the proposal did not take place on the Jumbé Rock on the day of the eclipse; but was postponed, sine die, to some future occasion.