straight towards us. Even at that distance, the lustrous youth of his
countenance appeared to me terribly distinct, and the light of his
wondrous eye seemed to rest upon us in one lengthened, steady ray through
the limpid moonshine. Involuntarily I seized Lilian's hand, and drew her
away almost by force, for she was unwilling to move, and as I led her
back, she turned her head to look round; I, too, turned in jealous rage!
I breathed more freely. Margrave had disappeared!

"How came he there? It is not his hotel. Whose house is it?" I said
aloud, though speaking to myself.

Lilian remained silent, her eyes fixed upon the ground as if in deep
revery. I took her band; it did not return my pressure. I felt cut to
the heart when she drew coldly from me that hand, till then so frankly
cordial. I stopped short: "Lilian, what is this? you are chilled towards
me. Can the mere sound of that man's voice, the mere glimpse of that
man's face, have--" I paused; I did not dare to complete my question.

Lilian lifted her eyes to mine, and I saw at once in those eyes a change.
Their look was cold; not haughty, but abstracted. "I do not understand
you," she said, in a weary, listless accent. "It is growing late; I must
go in."

So we walked on moodily, no longer arm in arm, nor hand in hand. Then it
occurred to me that, the next day, Lilian would be in that narrow world of
society; that there she could scarcely fail to hear of Margrave, to meet,
to know him. Jealousy seized me with all its imaginary terrors, and
amidst that jealousy, a nobler, purer apprehension for herself. Had I
been Lilian's brother instead of her betrothed, I should not have trembled
less to foresee the shadow of Margrave's mysterious influence passing over