' monument, lifting high
above the trees a splendid figure of Victory, with wings outspread
against the pale sky. Modelled after the Pillar of Trajan, only more
lovely in the purity of its white marble, it was one of the rare
objects of art that gave Warwick a claim to distinction and justified
the pride of its citizens. Around it were carved innumerable figures
of soldiers, climbing a spiral pathway. Indistinguishable now in the
moonlight, they still remained in the memory, like the echo of a
martial song.

This was the first appeal of the night, made to the eye alone; but
presently, despite the random noises of the street, they became aware
of a dull, continuous sound, and knew that the stream which intersected
the park on its way to the river had been freed from ice by the January
thaw, and was pouring its swollen waters over the dam. The note was
deep and full, like a solemn recitative, as if Nature's diurnal
harmonies had sunk to this one transitional key. Above all, the
mildness of the air, full of the alluring witchery of a false spring,
affected the imagination like a delicate, ethereal wine.

Leigh lifted his head and swept the sky with the keenness of the
scientist to whom its vast spaces are a familiar book; yet when he
suddenly desisted and looked down at Felicity, she saw in his eyes the
rare expression of the poet.

"It would almost seem," he said, "that Nature has gradually been taking
on a more serene and mysterious beauty every moment, to rebuke the
feverish struggles of men."

Their glances lingered, and he read in her a wild unhappiness and a
suggestion of reckless daring that stirred his heart to he knew not
what tempestuous emotions. He found in that look a license for his
dreams, and made her the guardian of his conscience. He had no wish to
be more honourable than she, and this surrender was attended by an
ecstasy that derived its final sweetness from a sense of transgression.
When the carriage came round, he handed Mrs. Parr in, and then
hesitated.

"We ought to walk home such a night as this, Miss Wycliffe," he
suggested.

Mrs. Parr leaned forward and laughed lightly with appreciation.
"Felicity, dear," she said, "if you're going to walk, do draw up your
hood, or you'll catch cold."

Leigh's heart grew warm with gratitude at this friendly interposition,
and to his surprise even Parr himself seemed not indifferent to his
cause. "Yes," he added, pulling at his cigar till it glowe