CHAPTER VIII.
Ma. Then you believe not, Arnold, in the stars?
Ar. Yes, in the stars—when on a winter's night
They stand as thick as drops of dew new frozen
On the dark arch of Heaven—or when they lie
Mirrowed upon the heaving sea—or steal
Slowly and faint into the Summer sky—
But for these ignorant interpreters,
They scarce are worth the scorn of disbelief.
ANON.
Aveline declared that she would not be defrauded of her ride when the evening came in all its freshness; but Mr. Haveloc said that he saw she was languid; that the morning was the proper time for exercise, and that Hakon Jarl should be his companion the next day, when he paid his respects to Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
"Ah! you will come to-morrow, that is well," said Aveline, "but do not let me go quite without a ride this evening; let me take a turn just round the garden."
Mr. Haveloc glanced at Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
"Yes, let her," she said in a tone of despondency.
The poney was brought to the window; Aveline was lifted on, and Mr. Haveloc taking the reins led him through the shrubberies, and along the broad terrace.
"I wonder if he could go down the steps upon the sands," said Aveline.
"He could, I have no doubt," said Mr. Haveloc, "but you—"
"I should so enjoy it; riding along the sands by moonlight," said Aveline. "Oh! I am quite strong enough—never fear."