e room was a long, low casement, and here I leaned,
watching the river near-by, and listening to its never-ceasing murmur.
I had dined an hour ago; the beef had been excellent--it always is at
the Three Jolly Anglers--and the ale beyond all criticism; also my pipe
seemed to have an added flavour.

Yet despite all this I did not enjoy that supreme content--that
philosophical calm which such beef and such ale surely warranted. But
then, who ever heard of Love and Philosophy going together?

Away over the uplands a round, harvest moon was beginning to rise,
flecking the shadowy waters with patches of silver, and, borne to my
ears upon the warm, still air, came the throb of distant violins. This
served only to deepen my melancholy, reminding me that somebody or
other was giving a ball to-night; and Lisbeth was there, and Mr. Selwyn
was there, of course, and I--I was here--alone with the brass-bound
blunderbuss, the ancient fishing-rods and the antique andirons on the
hearth; with none to talk to save the moon, and the jasmine that had
crept in at the open casement. And noting the splendour of the night,
I experienced towards Lisbeth a feeling of pained surprise, that she
should prefer the heat and garish glitter of a ball-room to walking
beneath such a moon with me.

Indeed, it was a wondrous night! one of those warm still nights which
seem full of vague and untold possibilities! A night with magic in the
air, when elves and fairies dance within their grassy rings, or biding
amid the shade of trees, peep out at one between the leaves; or again,
some gallant knight on mighty steed may come pacing slowly from the
forest shadows, with the moonlight bright upon his armour.

Yes, surely there was magic in the air to-right! I half wished that
some enchanter might, by a stroke of his fairy wand, roll back the
years and leave me in the brutal, virile, Good Old Times, when men
wooed and won their loves by might and strength of arm, and not by
gold, as is so often the case in these days of ours. To be mounted
upon my fiery steed, lance in hand and sword on thigh, riding down the
leafy alleys of the woods yonder, led by the throbbing, sighing melody.
To burst upon the astonished dancers like a thunder-clap; to swing her
up to my saddle-bow, and clasped in each other's arms, to plunge into
the green mystery of forest.

My fancies had carried me thus far when I became aware of a small,
furtive figure, dodging from one patch of