by the lights of homesteads.
It was beautiful, but she did not say anything about it to Richard, who
was walking on ahead, though there did not seem any reason why they
should walk in single file, for the ground was level and the grass
short. There was indeed a suavity about this place which was not to be
found in fields or commons. The line of trees towards which they were
going was only a spur of a dense wood that stretched inland, and light
from some moonflooded place beyond outlined their winter-naked bodies
and showed them beautiful with a formal afforested grace.

"Is this a park?" she whispered, running forward to his side.

"Yes. My father's park."

"Oh!" she breathed in surprise; then, flaming up in loyalty, cried:
"What a shame it isn't yours!"

He made an exclamation of anger and disgust, and said coldly: "Can't you
understand that I am glad that nothing which was his is mine?"

Meekly she murmured: "That's natural, that's natural," and fell behind.

They passed the lacy clump of withered bracken, casting a shadow much
more substantial than itself, which was the last dwindled outpost of
the screen of trees; and Richard hissed over his shoulder, "Hush!"
though she had not spoken. But nothing could spoil this. The silver
forest waited in a half circle round a clearing that looked marshy with
moonbeams; and in the centre of the arc, set forward from the trees,
shone a small temple, looking out to sea. It had four white pillars,
which were vague with excessive light, columns of gleaming mist; and
these upheld a high pediment, covered with deep stone mouldings which
cast such shadows and received such brightness that it looked like a
rich casket chased by some giant jeweller. That it should last longer
than a sigh did not seem possible.

But it endured, it endured; until the urgent advocacy of romance which
was somehow inherent in its beauty, and which was not likely to be
fulfilled, caused an ache. She caught her breath in a sob.

"You think it beautiful?" asked Richard, close to her ear.

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes!"

"I had a summer-house in that villa of mine at Rio," he said, hotly and
defiantly, "which was just like this, but much more beautiful."

He stepped forward and began to move towards the temple with that air of
stalking a quarry. She followed him wearily, feeling that it was not
right that they should have come here like this. They should have come
in some different way. At each step the temple g