had at first
thrilled him with expectation, had certainly CHANGED ITS POSITION.
Before, it seemed to be near the summer-house; now it was, undoubtedly,
farther away. Could they, or SHE alone, have slipped from the house
and be awaiting him there? With a muttered exclamation at his
stupidity he stepped hastily from the veranda and walked towards it.
But he had scarcely proceeded a dozen yards before it disappeared. He
reached the summer-house--it was empty; he followed the line of
hedge--no one was there. It could not have been her, or she would have
waited, unless he were the victim of a practical joke. He turned
impatiently back to the house, reentered the drawing-room by the French
window, and was crossing the half-lit apartment, when he heard a slight
rustle in the shadow of the window. He looked around quickly, and saw
that it was Yerba, in a white, loose gown, for which she had already
exchanged her black evening dress, leaning back composedly on the sofa,
her hands clasped behind her shapely head.

"I am waiting for Milly," she said, with a faint smile on her lips. He
fancied, in the moonlight that streamed upon her, that her beautiful
face was pale. "She has gone to the other wing to see one of the
servants who is ill. We thought you were on the veranda smoking and I
should have company, until I saw you start off, and rush up and down
the hedge like mad."

Paul felt that he was losing his self-possession, and becoming nervous
in her presence. "I thought it was YOU," he stammered.

"Me! Out in the garden at this hour, alone, and in the broad
moonlight? What are you thinking of, Mr. Hathaway? Do you know
anything of convent rules, or is that your idea of your ward's
education?"

He fancied that, though she smiled faintly, her voice was as tremulous
as his own.

"I want to speak with you," he said, with awkward directness. "I even
thought of asking you to stroll with me in the garden."

"Why not talk here?" she returned, changing her position, pointing to
the other end of the sofa, and drawing the whole overflow of her skirt
to one side. "It is not so very late, and Milly will return in a few
moments."

Her face was in shadow now, but there was a glow-worm light in her
beautiful eyes that seemed faintly to illuminate her whole face. He
sank down on the sofa at her side, no longer the brilliant and
ambitious politician, but, it seemed to him, as hopelessly a dreaming,
inexperienced boy as whe