, and harlotry, sir, I call it. I'd have
every jade flogged that made a young innocent gentleman go on like that,
sir."

"Then, why didn't you stop it yourself, Benson? Ah, I see! you
waited--what? This is not the first time you have been attendant on
Apollo and Miss Dryope? You have written to headquarters?"

"I did my duty, Mr. Hadrian."

The wise youth returned to Lady Blandish, and informed her of Benson's
zeal. The lady's eyes flashed. "I hope Richard will treat him as he
deserves," she said.

"Shall we home?" Adrian inquired.

"Do me a favour;" the lady replied. "Get my carriage sent round to meet
me at the park-gates."

"Won't you?"--

"I want to be alone."

Adrian bowed and left her. She was still sitting with her hands clasped
round one knee, gazing towards the dim ray-strewn valley.

"An odd creature!" muttered the wise youth. "She's as odd as any of them.
She ought to be a Feverel. I suppose she's graduating for it. Hang that
confounded old ass of a Benson! He has had the impudence to steal a march
on me!"

The shadow of the cypress was lessening on the lake. The moon was
climbing high. As Richard rowed the boat, Lucy, sang to him softly. She
sang first a fresh little French song, reminding him of a day when she
had been asked to sing to him before, and he did not care to hear. "Did I
live?" he thinks. Then she sang to him a bit of one of those majestic old
Gregorian chants, that, wherever you may hear them, seem to build up
cathedral walls about you. The young man dropped the sculls. The strange
solemn notes gave a religions tone to his love, and wafted him into the
knightly ages and the reverential heart of chivalry.

Hanging between two heavens on the lake: floating to her voice: the moon
stepping over and through white shoal's of soft high clouds above and
below: floating to her void--no other breath abroad! His soul went out of
his body as he listened.

They must part. He rows her gently shoreward.

"I never was so happy as to-night," she murmurs.

"Look, my Lucy. The lights of the old place are on the lake. Look where
you are to live."

"Which is your room, Richard?"

He points it out to her.

"O Richard! that I were one of the women who wait on you! I should ask
nothing more. How happy she must be!"

"My darling angel-love. You shall be happy; but all shall wait on you,
and I foremost, Lucy."

"Dearest! may I hope for a letter?"

"By eleven to-morrow. And I?"

"Oh! you wil