t course to adopt, or where to begin
their search, were questions alike embarrassing and impossible to
answer. In the end they determined to lay the matter before the king on
the morrow.

It may be needful to go back a short space to "The Bower of Beautie,"
wherein the knight of the silver mantle, having safely ensconced
himself, as the reader may remember, the arras was let down; after
which, being wheeled away to their destination, they were to await for
the commencement of the masque. But the Silver Knight, lifting up the
curtain, observed they were much too early for the performance, and
courteously entreated the lady that she would alight. The evening was
hot, and the bower close and oppressive. An hour might, in all
probability, elapse ere their presence would be required. Grace,
trusting to her companion, quitted the car, strolling out amongst the
masks. Gradually they left the main crowd, unconsciously approaching the
steep brow of the hill, where, looking towards the east, they beheld the
broad red moon swinging out from the blue horizon. The loud hum of the
revellers came softly and pleasantly on the ear. It was an hour of
quietness and delight--a few hasty, happy moments snatched from these
gaudy hours--the pomp and circumstance of life. Would that Sir John had
been here in lieu of his friend! thought Grace. No, she did not think
so, but she felt as though such a thought might have been nursed into
being with little effort. They were now stealing down the hill, and the
dark waters of the Orr were leaping and bubbling at their feet.

"We must return," said the maiden, looking up, alarmed at seeing, for
the first time, that they were cut off from all connection and
intercourse with their companions. Her attendant was a perfect stranger,
except in name, and though counselled to rely implicity on his care by
the master of the ceremonies himself, she felt her situation
embarrassing and unpleasant.

"And why must we return?" said the mask. The tone startled her; its
expression was now soft and beseeching, as though he had before spoken
in a masked voice.

"Why!" said she, looking as though she would have pierced through his
disguise.

"Nay, whet not thy glance so keenly. I am not what I seem, and yet am
not unseemly."

"Your jests had been better timed had they taken a fitter season. I must
hence."

"Go not, my beauteous queen," said the stranger, taking her hand, which
she dashed from her with indignatio