Women in beautiful wraps, their heads flashing with jewels,
descended the staircase, and drove, or even walked, away into the
summer night.

Lady Brighthelmston began to look tired, although all the world, as
it said good night, was telling her that it was one of the most
delightful balls of the season.

The English nosegay had lost its white flower, for Patricia was not
in the family group. I looked everywhere for the gleam of her
silvery scarf, everywhere for Terence, while, the waltz music having
ceased, the Spanish students played 'Love's Young Dream.'

I hummed the words as the sweet old tune, strummed by the tinkling
mandolins, vibrated clearly in the maze of other sounds:-

'Oh! the days have gone when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove;
When my dream of life from morn till night
Was Love, still Love.
New hope may bloom and days may come,
Of milder, calmer beam,
But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As Love's Young Dream.'

At last, in a quiet spot under the oak-tree, the lately risen moon
found Patricia's diamond arrow and discovered her to me. The
Japanese lanterns had burned out; she was wrapped like a young nun,
in a cloud of white that made her eyelashes seem darker.