d a right to demand it,
or they a right to withhold it, he had no more idea than the man in
the moon. So he dismissed the whole affair from his mind as something
with which he had nothing whatever to do, and spent the evening in the
company of Sir Thomas Browne. At ten o'clock he went forth into the
garden, and became absorbed in an attempt to identify the different
colours of the flowers in the moonlight. It proved a fascinating
occupation, for the pale, cold brightness imparted hues to the
flowers that were strange and weird, so that it was a matter of real
difficulty to say what the colours actually were. Then he wondered how
it was he had never before discovered what an inspiring thing it was
to wander all alone at night about a garden illuminated by a brilliant
moon. The shadows were so black and secret, the radiance so spiritual,
the shapes so startlingly fantastic, it was like being in another
world. And then the silence. That was the most compelling charm of
all. It helped him to feel. And he felt that he was not alone, though
he heard nothing and saw nobody. The garden was full of
flower-fairies, invisible elves and sprites whose mission it was to
guard the flowers, and who loved the moonlight more than they loved
the day; dainty, diaphanous creatures who were wafted across the
smooth lawns on summer breezes, and washed the thirsty petals and
drooping leaves in the dew which the clear blue air of night diffuses
so abundantly. He had a sense--almost a knowledge--that the garden he
was in was a dream-garden, a sort of panoramic phantasm, and that the
real garden lay _behind_ it somehow, hidden from material eyesight,
eluding material touch, but there all the same, unearthly and elysian,
more beautiful a great deal than the one in which he was standing,
and teeming with gracious presences. It seemed a revelation to him,
this sudden perception of a real world underlying the apparent one;
and for nearly half-an-hour he sauntered to and fro in a reverie,
leaning sometimes against the old stone fountain, and sometimes
watching the pale clouds as they began flitting together as though to
keep a rendezvous in space, until they concealed the face of the moon
entirely from view and left the garden dark.

* * * * *

Whether Austin had strange dreams that night or no, certain it is that
when he came down to breakfast in the morning his face was set and
there was a look of unusual preoccupati