oo fine
to describe the most beautiful thing in this strange world, the
irrevocable gift of a good woman's love!

However that may be, it will have served its purpose if it makes it
clear that a crisis is at hand in the affairs of the heart of two of
the central actors on this mimic stage.

CHAPTER XXVI

One Saturday morning, when May was three-parts gone, Philip announced
his intention of going up to London till the Monday on business. He
was a man who had long since become callous to appearances, and though
Arthur, fearful lest spiteful things should be said of Angela, almost
hinted that it would look odd, his host merely laughed, and said that
he had little doubt but that his daughter was quite able to look after
herself, even when such a fascinating young gentleman as himself was
concerned. As a matter of fact, his object was to get rid of Angela by
marrying her to this young Heigham, who had so opportunely tumbled
down from the skies, and whom he rather liked than otherwise. This
being the case, he rightly concluded that, the more the two were left
together, the greater probability there was of his object being
attained. Accordingly he left them together as much as possible.

It was on the evening of this Saturday that Arthur gathered up his
courage and asked Angela to come and walk through the ruins with him.
Angela hesitated a little; the shadow of something about to happen had
fallen on her mind; but the extraordinary beauty of the evening, to
say nothing of the prospect of his company, turned the scale in
Arthur's favour.

It was one of those nights of which, if we are lucky, we get some five
or six in the course of an English summer. The moon was at her full,
and, the twilight ended, she filled the heavens with her light. Every
twig and blade of grass showed out as clearly as in the day, but
looked like frosted silver. The silence was intense, and so still was
the air that the sharp shadows of the trees were motionless upon the
grass, only growing with the growing hours. It was one of those nights
that fill us with an indescribable emotion, bringing us into closer
companionship with the unseen than ever does the garish, busy day. In
such an hour, we can sometimes feel, or think that we can feel, other
presences around us, and involuntarily we listen for the whisper of
the wings and the half-forgotten voices of our beloved.

On this particular evening some such feeling wa