he other, now each to an
imaginary lady. Mr. Pincornet issued directions in the tone of a general
ordering a charge, his pupil obeyed implicitly. In the silent house,
raised high on a mountain-top above a sleeping world, in the lit room
with many open windows, through which poured the fragrance of spring,
they practised until midnight the _minuet de la cour._ The hour struck;
they gravely ceased to dance, and after five minutes spent in mutual
compliments, closed the long windows and put out the superfluous lights,
then said good-night, and, bedroom candle in hand, repaired each to his
own chamber. Rand had risen at dawn, and his day had been a battlefield,
but before he lay down in the dimity-hung, four-post bed he sat long at
the window of his small, white, quiet room. The moon shone brightly; the
air was soft and sweet. In the distance a lamb bleated, then all was
still again. The young man rested his chin on his hand, and studied the
highest stars. That day a milestone had been passed. He saw his road
stretching far, far before him, and he saw certain fellow travellers,
but the companion whom his heart cried for he could not see.

"Her way and mine are far apart--are far apart. I had better marry Vinie
Mocket." He spoke half aloud and with bitterness, looking from the
window toward Fontenoy. Suddenly the water smarted in his eyes, and he
stretched out his arms. "Oh, pardon, love!" he whispered, "I love but
you--and I'll love you to the end!" His fancy dwelt on Fontenoy. It was
for him enchanted land, the sleeping palace, strongly hedged. "But I am
not the appointed man," he thought. "I am a pauper, and no prince. It is
Ludwell Cary that goes in and out."

CHAPTER VI

RAND COMES TO FONTENOY

"I never dance but by candlelight," remarked Unity. "A Congo in the heat
of the afternoon, a jig before sunset,--la! I had rather plough by
moonlight. As well be a grasshopper in a daisy field! Elegance by
waxlight becomes rusticity in the sunshine,--and of all things I would
not be rustic! Oh, Mr. Cary, I've caught my gown in this rosebush!"

Mr. Fairfax Cary knelt to release the muslin prisoner. "Rusticity
becomes you so that if I were a king, you should dance with me the
livelong day. But I'll not grumble if only you'll dance with me as soon
as the candles are lit! Last night you were all for that booby, Ned
Hunter!"

"He's no booby," said Miss Dandridge. "He is bashful--though, indeed, I
think he is only bashfu