'Mr. Laxley, Mr. Forth, and Harry, are going to Lymport to-morrow.'

Evan was looking at a figure, whose shadow was thrown towards the house
from the margin of the stream.

He stood up, and taking the hand of Miss Bonner, said:

'I thank you. I may, perhaps, start with them. At any rate, you have
done me a great service, which I shall not forget.'

The figure by the stream he knew to be that of Rose. He released Miss
Bonner's trembling moist hand, and as he continued standing, she moved to
the door, after once following the line of his eyes into the moonlight.

Outside the door a noise was audible. Andrew had come to sit with his
dear boy, and the Countess had met and engaged and driven him to the
other end of the passage, where he hung remonstrating with her.

'Why, Van,' he said, as Evan came up to him, 'I thought you were in a
profound sleep. Louisa said--'

'Silly Andrew!' interposed the Countess, 'do you not observe he is sleep-
walking now?' and she left them with a light laugh to go to Juliana, whom
she found in tears. The Countess was quite aware of the efficacy of a
little bit of burlesque lying to cover her retreat from any petty
exposure.

Evan soon got free from Andrew. He was under the dim stars, walking to
the great fire in the East. The cool air refreshed him. He was simply