she called out, "Gerald, you rogue, why didn't you speak to
let me know you were there?" She darted toward the lattice, but the
eye disappeared. She tried to follow, but saw only a tall shadow
gliding away behind the corner of the house. She pursued, but found
only a tremulous reflection of vines in the moonlight. She kept on
round the house, and into the garden, frequently calling out, "Gerald!
Gerald!" "Hark! hark!" she murmured to herself, as some far-off tones
of "Toll the bell" floated through the air. The ghostly moonlight,
the strange, lonely place, and the sad, mysterious sounds made her a
little afraid. In a more agitated tone, she called Gerald again. In
obedience to her summons, she saw him coming toward her in the
garden walk. Forgetful of her momentary fear, she sprang toward him,
exclaiming: "Are you a wizard? How did you get there, when two minutes
ago you were peeping at me through the veranda lattice?"

"I haven't been there," he replied; "but why are you out here, Lily,
when I particularly requested you to stay in the house till I came?"

"O, you were so long coming, that I grew tired of being alone. The
moonlight looked so inviting that I went out on the veranda to watch
for you; and when I saw you looking at me through the lattice, I ran
after you, and couldn't find you."

"I haven't been near the lattice," he replied. "If you saw somebody
looking at you, I presume it was one of the servants peeping at the
new missis."

"None of your tricks!" rejoined she, snapping her fingers at him
playfully. "It was _your_ eye that I saw. If it weren't for making you
vain, I would ask you whether your handsome eyes could be mistaken for
the eyes of one of your negroes. But I want you to go with me to that
bower down there."

"Not to-night, dearest," said he. "I will go with you to-morrow."

"Now is just the time," persisted she. "Bowers never look so pretty
as by moonlight. I don't think you are very gallant to your bride to
refuse her such a little favor."

Thus urged, he yielded, though reluctantly, to her whim. As she
entered the bower, and turned to speak to him, the moonlight fell full
upon her figure. "What a pretty little witch you are!" he exclaimed.
"My Lily Bell, my precious pearl, my sylph! You look like a spirit
just floated down from the moon."

"All moonshine!" replied she, with a smile.

He kissed the saucy lips, and the vines which had witnessed other
caresses in that same bower, a few m