ace, and the old
sunshine brightened his blue eyes. For one instant their eyes met with
that lustrous and dewy love-gleam that only lovers know, but during that
instant it seemed as if their souls had flowed together into a common
fount. With a happy look she suffered him to take her hand, and draw
off from her finger a sapphire ring; this he put on his own finger,
while on hers he replaced it by the gold-set ruby, his mother's gift,
which he usually wore.

The crescent moon had risen as they walked home, and they found the rest
of the party seated in the hotel garden, under her soft silver light;
but nobody seemed to be much in a mood for talking, until that little
monkey Cyril, who observed everything, exclaimed--

"Why, Julian, do look; Violet has got Kennedy's ring on, and--well, I
declare if he hasn't got hers."

"Let us all come up-stairs," said Kennedy hastily and then, before them
all, he drew Violet to his side, and said--

"Julian, Violet and I are betrothed to each other."

"As I thought," said Julian with a smile, as a rush of sudden emotion
made his eyes glisten, and he warmly grasped Kennedy's hand.

"And as I hoped, Julian," said Mr Kennedy, as he turned away to wipe
his spectacles, which somehow had grown dim.

The moonlight streamed over them as the two stood there together, young,
happy, hopeful, beautiful, and while Cyril held Kennedy's hand, Eva and
Violet exchanged a sister's kiss.

And Julian looked on with a glow of happiness--happiness that had one
drawback only--a passing shadow of sorrow for the possible feelings of
De Vayne.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

ONLY A BLUSH.

"Erubuit! salva res est!"--Plautus.

Back from the glistening snow-fields, where every separate crystal
flashes with a separate gleam of light--back from the Alpine pastures,
embroidered with their tissue of innumerable flowers, over which, like
winged flowers, the butterflies flutter continually--back from the
sunlit silver mantle of the everlasting hills, and the thunder of the
avalanche, and the wild leap of the hissing cataract--back to the cold
grey flats and ancient towers of Camford, and the lazy windings of the
muddy Iscam, and the strife and struggle of a university career.

Kennedy arrived at Camford at mid-day, and as but few men had yet come
up, he beguiled the time by going out to make the usual formal call on
his tutor. As he passed the door of the room where temptation had
brought on him so many heav