he would not think of you in that way, of course not; his quarrel
with you is entirely political. Yet I should not like the breach to be
widened, and he is so testy. Here he is at the garden gate. For your own
sake and mine, Robert, go!"

The beseeching words were aided by a beseeching gesture and a more
beseeching look. Moore covered her clasped hands an instant with his,
answered her upward by a downward gaze, said "Good-night!" and went.

Caroline was in a moment at the kitchen door behind Fanny. The shadow of
the shovel-hat at that very instant fell on a moonlit tomb. The rector
emerged, erect as a cane, from his garden, and proceeded in slow march,
his hands behind him, down the cemetery. Moore was almost caught. He had
to "dodge" after all, to coast round the church, and finally to bend his
tall form behind the Wynnes' ambitious monument. There he was forced to
hide full ten minutes, kneeling with one knee on the turf, his hat off,
his curls bare to the dew, his dark eye shining, and his lips parted
with inward laughter at his position; for the rector meantime stood
coolly star-gazing, and taking snuff within three feet of him.

It happened, however, that Mr. Helstone had no suspicion whatever on his
mind; for being usually but vaguely informed of his niece's movements,
not thinking it worth while to follow them closely, he was not aware
that she had been out at all that day, and imagined her then occupied
with book or work in her chamber--where, indeed, she was by this time,
though not absorbed in the tranquil employment he ascribed to her, but
standing at her window with fast-throbbing heart, peeping anxiously from
behind the blind, watching for her uncle to re-enter and her cousin to
escape. And at last she was gratified. She heard Mr. Helstone come in;
she saw Robert stride the tombs and vault the wall; she then went down
to prayers. When she returned to her chamber, it was to meet the memory
of Robert. Slumber's visitation was long averted. Long she sat at her
lattice, long gazed down on the old garden and older church, on the
tombs laid out all gray and calm, and clear in moonlight. She followed
the steps of the night, on its pathway of stars, far into the "wee sma'
hours ayont the twal'." She was with Moore, in spirit, the whole time;
she was at his side; she heard his voice; she gave her hand into his
hand; it rested warm in his fingers. When the church clock struck, when
any other sound stirred, when a