you come from? Are you fairies?
I left two like you, one in purple and one in white, standing at the top
of a bank, four fields off, but a minute ago."

"You left us there and find us here. We have been watching you, and
shall watch you still. You must be questioned one day, but not now. At
present all you have to do is to say good-night, and then pass."

Moore glanced from one to the other without unbending his aspect. "Days
of fete have their privileges, and so have days of hazard," observed he
gravely.

"Come, don't moralize. Say good-night, and pass," urged Shirley.

"Must I say good-night to you, Miss Keeldar?"

"Yes, and to Caroline likewise. It is nothing new, I hope. You have bid
us both good-night before."

He took her hand, held it in one of his, and covered it with the other.
He looked down at her gravely, kindly, yet commandingly. The heiress
could not make this man her subject. In his gaze on her bright face
there was no servility, hardly homage; but there were interest and
affection, heightened by another feeling. Something in his tone when he
spoke, as well as in his words, marked that last sentiment to be
gratitude.

"Your debtor bids you good-night! May you rest safely and serenely till
morning."

"And you, Mr. Moore--what are you going to do? What have you been saying
to Mr. Helstone, with whom I saw you shake hands? Why did all those
gentlemen gather round you? Put away reserve for once. Be frank with
me."

"Who can resist you? I will be frank. To-morrow, if there is anything to
relate, you shall hear it."

"Just now," pleaded Shirley; "don't procrastinate."

"But I could only tell half a tale. And my time is limited; I have not a
moment to spare. Hereafter I will make amends for delay by candour."

"But are you going home?"

"Yes."

"Not to leave it any more to-night?"

"Certainly not. At present, farewell to both of you."

He would have taken Caroline's hand and joined it in the same clasp in
which he held Shirley's, but somehow it was not ready for him. She had
withdrawn a few steps apart. Her answer to Moore's adieu was only a
slight bend of the head and a gentle, serious smile. He sought no more
cordial token. Again he said "Farewell," and quitted them both.

"There! it is over," said Shirley when he was gone. "We have made him
bid us good-night, and yet not lost ground in his esteem, I think,
Cary."

"I hope not," was the brief reply.

"I consider you very timid and un