d in moonlight. She saw him, tall and slim,
in the conventional black and white of a man's evening dress, pass
silently through the postern gate. She noted that he did not bang it.
He came up the lawn slowly--for him. He wore no hat, and every
clear-cut feature of the clean-shaven young face showed up in the
moonlight.

At the mulberry, he paused, uncertain; peering into the dark shadow.

"Christo_bel_?" he said, softly.

"Boy dear; I am here. Come."

He came; feeling his way among the chairs, and moving aside a table,
which stood between.

He found her, sitting where he had found her, on his return, three
hours before. A single ray of moonlight pierced the thick foliage of
the mulberry, and fell across her face. He marked its unusual pallor.
He stood before her, put one hand on each arm of her chair, and bent
over her.

"What is it?" he said, softly. "What is it, dear heart? It is so
wonderful to be wanted, and sent for. But let me know quickly that you
are not in any trouble."

She looked up at him dumbly, during five, ten, twenty seconds. Then
she said: "Boy, I have something to tell you. Will you help me to tell
it?"

"Of course I will," he said. "How can I help best?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Oh, I _don't_ know!"

He considered a moment. Then he sat down on the grass at her feet, and
leaned his head against her knees. She passed her fingers softly
through his hair.

"What happened after I had gone?" asked the Boy.

"Jenkins brought me a note from Miss Harvey, asking me to come to her
at once, to hear some very wonderful news, intimately affecting
herself, and the Professor, and--and me. She wrote very ecstatically
and excitedly, poor dear. She always does. Of course, I went."

"Well?" said the Boy, gently. The pause was so very long, that it
seemed to require supplementing. He felt for the other hand, which had
been holding the lace at her breast, and drew it to his lips. It was
wet with tears.

The Boy started. He sat up; turned, resting his arm upon her lap, and
tried to see her face.

"Go on, dear," he said. "Get it over."

"Boy," said Miss Charteris, "a rich old uncle of the Harveys has died,
leaving the Professor a very considerable legacy, sufficient to make
him quite independent of his fellowship, and of the production of the
Encyclopedia."

"Well?"

"They are very happy about it, naturally. Poor Ann is happier than I
have ever seen her. And the chief