"I was never on the Thames in a small boat before to-day," answered Eleanor.
"There are some lovely nooks on it--so thoroughly English, you know: altogether unlike anything of the kind that you can see anywhere else."
"I have been so little abroad lately that I am hardly competent to judge what kind of scenery is thoroughly English, or what is not."
Another awkward silence. "What a goose he must think me! It seems so stupid not to be able to talk except in answer to a question," said Eleanor, to herself. "Why do I feel so different when I am with him< br> from what I do when I'm with anyone else? I never felt like this when I was alone with Captain Dayrell. If Cora had come with us we should have been lively enough." And yet, in her heart, how glad she was that Cora had not come! "Whether this scenery is English or not, it is very beautiful," said Eleanor, at last, with a desperate resolve to break the spell that was weaving itself more strongly around them with every moment. "One can see where spring's delicate brush has been at work here and there among the trees, rubbing-in the first faint tints of green. How lovely it is!"
"If this sunshine would only last, and the tide not tire of running up," said Gerald, "I feel that I could go on like this for a week and not feel weary."
"You are an Englishman, Mr. Pomeroy, and I am afraid that you would soon begin to cry out for your dinner."
"Would not the gods feed us and have a care of us? To-day we are their children. I feel that I have but to summon Hebe, and she would come and wait upon us."
"For my part, Minerva is the only one of the divinities whom I should care to summon."
"So much wisdom would surely overweight our little boat."
"But are we not rather short of ballast just at present?" asked Eleanor, slily.