over the scene; charming corners have been arranged to sit in, while
the splashing of the fountains mingles with the laughter and
conversation of the company.

'What an interminable dance,' thinks Philippa, as having walked a good
way round the garden, she finds herself once more outside the ball-room,
and the same tune is still being played. She heaves a sigh of despair
and raising her eyes meets those of Dalrymple, who is propping himself
against a pillar. There is a look of reproach in them, and Lippa, though
her conscience tells her she was unkind to him, feels an insane desire
to make him jealous, and turns with an adorable smile to Harkness, not
having heard a word of what he has just been saying; but he, thinking he
has everything in his grasp, smiles, and leads her almost before she is
aware, to a secluded corner.

'I--er I have been meaning to say something to you all this evening,' he
begins, standing before her with his arms folded.

'Indeed,' replies Miss Seaton lightly, 'it can't be anything of great
importance, or you would have said it before.'

'Not important,' this with a little more energy, 'why it is of vital
importance; on it hangs the whole fate of my existence, Miss Seaton,'
bending towards her, 'er--er Philippa, do you not know, have you not
guessed that I love you, that to see you is necessary to my happiness,
the first time I saw you--hear me,' as she makes as if to speak, 'you
must know it, do you not see it in my eyes?' he is growing melodramatic
and Lippa feels inclined to laugh, 'but one word, you love me, do you
not, ah!' and he is about to seize her hand when she steps back from him
saying,--