"Certainly," I nodded, "with lance and spear-point twinkling through the gloom, but in the silver glory of the moon, Mr. Selwyn, walk errant damozels and ladyes faire, and again, if you don't see them, the loss is yours."  As I spoke, away upon the terrace a grey shadow paused a moment ere it was swallowed in the brilliance of the ball-room; seeing which I did not mind the slightly superior smile that curved Mr. Selwyn's very precise moustache; after all, my rhapsody had not been altogether thrown away. As I ended, the opening bars of a waltz floated out to us. Mr. Selwyn glanced back over his shoulder. 

 "Ah! I suppose you can find your way out?"  he inquired. 

 "Oh, yes, thanks." 

 "Then if you will excuse me, I think I'll leave you to—ah—to do it; the next dance is beginning, and—ah—" 

 "Certainly," I said, "of course—good-night, and much obliged—really!" Mr. Selwyn bowed, and, turning away, left us to our own resources. 

 "I should have liked another ice, Uncle Dick," sighed the Imp, regretfully. 

 "Knights never ate ice cream!" I said, as we set off along the nearest path. 

 "Uncle Dick," said the Imp suddenly, "do you 'spose Mr. Selwyn wants to put his arm round Auntie Lis—" 

 "Possibly!" 

 "An' do you 'spose that Auntie Lisbeth wants Mr. Selwyn to—" 

 "I don't know—of course not—er—kindly shut up, will you, Imp?" 

 "I only wanted to know, you know," he murmured. 

 Therewith we walked on in silence and I fell to dreaming of Lisbeth again, of how she had sighed, of the look in her eyes as she turned to me with her answer trembling on her lips—the answer which the Imp had inadvertently cut short. In this frame of mind I drew near to that corner of the garden where she had stood with me, that quiet, shady corner, which henceforth would remain enshrined within my memory for her sake which— 

 I stopped suddenly short at the sight of two figures—one in the cap and apron of a waiting maid and the other in the 

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