"A day, Miss Wildmere. Your appearance indicates that you have survived admirably."
"The moon is so bright that we could drive fast, and I'm always happy when in rapid motion."
"You have had the advantage of me then; yet I've been in rapid motion a good part of the day on express trains."
"I feared you were not going to return to-day," she said, as she strolled out with him on the piazza.
"Feared?"
"Yes, why not?"
"It strikes me that I might ask, Why?"
"Surely you would not have me lose such an evening as this, Mr. Muir?" she said, a little reproachfully.
"I would have you follow your own heart."
"I shall follow it as soon as possible," she replied, so earnestly that he was disarmed—especially as the glance which accompanied the words was full of soft allurement and appeal. Of her own accord she put her hand on his arm, and spoke in low, contented tones, as if she had at last found rest and refuge. The moon poured around her a flood of radiance, which gave her an ethereal aspect. Her white drapery enhanced and spiritualized her remarkable beauty, making her appear all that lover or poet could ask. His own words grew kinder and gentler; his heart went out to her as never before; she seemed so fair, delicate, and pure in that witching light that he longed to rescue her at once from her surroundings. Why should he not? She had never manifested a more gentle and yielding mood. He directed her steps from the piazza to a somewhat distant summer-house, and her reluctance was a shy half revolt, which only emphasized the natural meaning of her unspoken consent.