closed with
that iron compression they always have when he is irritated. His eyes
met Florences, and he bowed haughtily and stiffly as he moved on, and
his upright figure, with its stately head, was seen in the room beyond,
high above any of those around him. A heavy sigh came through the orange
boughs, and her voice whispered, "I--I am very sorry, but----"

"Oh! _do_ look at the moonbeams falling on that darling little piece of
water, Mr. Wilmot!" exclaimed my decidedly _moonstruck_ companion.

"Is there no hope?" cried poor Mount.

"None!" And the low-whispered knell of hope came sighing over the
flowers. I thought how little she guessed there was none for her. Poor
Florence!

"Oh, this night! I could gaze on it forever, though it is saddening in
its sweetness, do not you think?" asked my romantic demoiselle. "Ah!
what a pretty _valse_ they are playing!"

"May I have the pleasure of dancing it with you?" I felt myself obliged
to ask, although intensely victimized thereby, as I hate dancing, and
wonder whatever idiot invented it.

Miss Chesney, considering her devotion to the moon, consented very
joyfully to leave it for the pleasures (?) of a _valse a deux temps_.

As we moved away, I saw that Florence was alone, and apparently occupied
with sad thoughts. She, I dare say, was grieving over Fane's cold bow,
and poor Mount had rushed away somewhere with his great sorrow. Fane
came into my room next morning while I was at breakfast, having been
obliged to get up at the unconscionable hour of ten, to be in time for a
review we were to have that day on Layton Common for the glorification
of the country around.

The gallant captain flung himself on my sofa, and, after puffing away at
his cigar for some minutes, came out with, "Any commands for London? I
am going to apply for leave, and I think I shall start by the express
to-morrow."

"What's in the wind now?" I asked. "Is Lord Avanley unwell?"

"No; the governor's all right, thank you. I am tired of rural felicity,
that is all," replied Fane. "I must stay for this review to-day, or the
colonel would make no end of a row. He is a testy old boy. I rather
think I shall set out, or exchange into the Heavies."

"What in the world have you got into your head, Fane?" I asked, utterly
astonished to see him diligently smoking an extinguished cigar. "I am
sorry you are going to leave us. The 110th will miss you, old fellow;
and what _will_ the Aspedens say to losing the