over her as she arose from the piano at last.

"Come out on the balcony," he said. "The night is lovely, and the good
people yonder are altogether engrossed in their cards and their
small-talk."

Without a word she stepped with him from the open French window out
into the starlit night.

What is it that Byron says about solitude, and moonlight, and youth? A
dangerous combination, truly; and so Sir Everard Kingsland found,
standing side by side with this pale daughter of a hundred earls. But
the irrevocable words were not destined to be spoken, for just then
George Grosvenor, goaded to jealous desperation, stalked out through
the open casement and joined them.

The midnight moon was sailing up to the zenith as Sir Everard rode
home. His road was a lonely one through Brithlow Wood, which shortened
his journey by over a mile; but his thoughts were pleasant ones, and he
hummed, as he rode, the songs Lady Louise had sung.

"Confound that muff, Grosvenor!" he thought. "If it had not been for
his impertinent intrusion, the matter would have been safely settled by
this time--and settled pleasantly too, I take it; for, without being a
conceited noodle, I really think Lady Louise will say yes. Ah! what's
this?"

For out of the starlit darkness, from among the trees, started up a
giant black figure, and his horse was grasped by the bridle and hurled
back upon his haunches.