he autumn, when
the leaves are turning, and there is blue mist in the background against
the dark tree trunks. I think I love every inch of London!"

Leslie Cunningham would have listened to the praises of the Black
Country, if only for the sake of hearing her voice.

"Well, as far as England goes, you are in the right place for scenery
now; I know a few lovelier parts than this."

"What are those lights on the lower terrace?" asked Erica, suddenly.

"Glow worms. Have you never seen them? Come and look at them nearer."

"Oh, I should like to!" she said, with the charming enthusiasm and
eagerness which delighted him so much.

To guide her down the steps in the dusky garden, to feel her hand on his
arm, to hear her fresh, naive remarks, and then to recall what Donovan
Farrant had just told him about her strange, sad story, all seemed to
draw him on irresistibly. He had had three or four tolerably serious
flirtations, but now he knew that he had never before really loved.

Erica was delighted with the glow worms, and delighted with the dewy
fragrance of the garden, and delighted with the soft, balmy stillness
of the night. She was one of those who revel in Nature, and all that
she said was evidently the overflow of a rapturous happiness, curiously
contrasting with the ordinary set remarks of admiration, or falsely
sentimental outbursts too much in vogue. But Leslie Cunningham found
that the child-likeness was not only in manner, but that Erica had no
idea of flirting; she was bright, and merry, and talkative, but she had
no thought, no desire of attracting his attention. She had actually
and literally come out into the garden to see the glow worms, not to
monopolize the much-run-after young M.P, and as soon as she had seen
them she said she felt cold, and suggested going back again.

He was disappointed, but the words were so perfectly sincere, so free
from suspicion of mere conventionality, that there was nothing for it
but to return. Half amused, half piqued, but wholly in love, he speedily
forgot himself in real anxiety.

"I hope you haven't taken cold," he said, with great solicitude.

"Oh, no," said Erica; "but I want to be careful for the night-school
work will be beginning soon, and I must go home fresh for that."

Something in her words broke the spell of perfect happiness which had
hitherto held him. Was it the mention of her every-day life, with its
surroundings unknown to him? Or was it some faint per