ughtful charm of the old house, of its
quaint old-world flavor. They spoke of the beauty of the night, the
flowers and the stars, in whispers, as one is apt to do--as fearing to
disturb a super-sensitiveness in nature.

They had come out later than on the previous night; and the moon,
already risen above the high walls of the garden, seemed a vast silver
shield caught in the interlacing tops of the old pear-trees, whose
branches crossed its bright field like dark bends or bars. As it rose
higher, it began to separate the lighter shrubbery, and open white lanes
through the olive-trees. Damp currents of air, alternating with drier
heats, on what appeared to be different levels, moved across the
whole garden, or gave way at times to a breathless lull and hush of
everything, in which the long rose alley seemed to be swooning in its
own spices. They had reached the bottom of the garden, and had turned,
facing the upper moonlit extremity and the bare stone bench. Cecily's
voice faltered, her hand leaned more heavily on his arm, as if she were
overcome by the strong perfume. His right hand began to steal towards
hers. But she had stopped; she was trembling.

"Go on," she said in a half whisper. "Leave me a moment; I'll join you
afterwards."

"You are ill, Cecily! It's those infernal flowers!" said Dick earnestly.
"Let me help you to the bench."

"No--it's nothing. Go on, please. Do! Will you go!"

She spoke with imperiousness, unlike herself. He walked on mechanically
a dozen paces and turned. She had disappeared. He remembered there was a
smaller gate opening upon the plain near where they had stopped. Perhaps
she had passed through that. He continued on, slowly, towards the upper
end of the garden, occasionally turning to await her return. In this way
he gradually approached the stone bench. He was facing about to continue
his walk, when his heart seemed to stop beating. The beautiful visitor
of last night was sitting alone on the bench before him!

She had not been there a moment before; he could have sworn it. Yet
there was no illusion now of shade or distance. She was scarcely six
feet from him, in the bright moonlight. The whole of her exquisite
little figure was visible, from her lustrous hair down to the tiny,
black satin, low-quartered slipper, held as by two toes. Her face was
fully revealed; he could see even the few minute freckles, like powdered
allspice, that heightened the pale satin sheen of her beautiful