e was a possibility that something might have transpired which I
should do well to know.

And yet what more could transpire? Lisbeth had made her choice, my
dream was over, to-morrow I should return to London--and there was an
end of it all; still--

In this pitiful state of vacillation I remained for some time, but in
the end curiosity and a fugitive hope gained the day, and taking my
cap, I sallied forth.

It was, as Stevenson would say, "a wonderful night of stars," and the
air was full of their soft, quivering light, for the moon was late and
had not risen as yet. As I stepped from the inn door, somebody in the
tap-room struck up "Tom Bowling" in a rough but not unmusical voice;
and the plaintive melody seemed somehow to become part of the night.

Truly, my feet trod a path of "faerie," carpeted with soft mosses, a
path winding along beside a river of shadows on whose dark tide stars
were floating. I walked slowly, breathing the fragrance of the night
and watching the great, silver moon creeping slowly up the spangled
sky. So I presently came to the "blasted oak." The hole in the trunk
needed little searching for. I remembered it well enough, and
thrusting in my hand, drew out a folded paper. Holding this close to my
eyes, I managed with no little difficulty to decipher this message:

Don't go unkel dick bekors Auntie lisbeth wants you and i want you to.
I heard her say so to herself in the libree and she was crying to, and
didn't see me there but i was. And she said O Dick i want you so, out
loud bekors she didn't no I was there. And i no she was crying bekors
i saw the tiers. And this is true on my onner so help me sam.

Sined,
Yore true frend and Knight,
REGINALD AUGUSTUS.

A revulsion of feeling swept over me as I read. Ah! if only I could
believe she had said such words--my beautiful, proud Lisbeth.

Alas! dear Imp, how was it possible to believe you? And because I
knew it could not possibly be true, and because I would have given my
life to know that it was true, I began to read the note all over again.

Suddenly I started and looked round; surely that was a sob! But the
moon's level rays served only to show the utter loneliness about me. It
was imagination, of course, and yet it had sounded very real.

And she said, "O Dick, I want you so!"

The river lapped softly against the bank, and somewhere above my head
the leaves rustled dismally.

"Dear little Imp, if it were