'What are you two talking about? I am come to pay my tribute to the heroines of the night, and find them star-gazing,' broke in a familiar voice.
A tall figure in shining raiment bore down upon them—a confused vision of soft white draperies and gleaming jewels under a cashmere cloak.
'Ethel, is it you?' exclaimed Mildred, in an astonished voice.
'Yes, it is I, dear Mildred,' replied the crisp tones, while two soft arms came out from the cloak and enveloped her. 'I suppose I ought to be on the road to Appleby Castle, but I determined to snatch half an hour to myself first, to offer my congratulations to you and this dear girl' (kissing Olive). 'You are only a secondary light to-night, Mildred.'
'What! have you seen it?'
'Yes; my copy came last night. I sat up half the night reading it. You have achieved a success, Olive, that no one else has; you have absolutely drawn tears from my eyes.'
'I thought you never cried over books, Ethel,' in a mischievous tone from Mildred.
'I am usually most strong-hearted, but the "Voices of the Hearth" would have melted a flint. Olive, I never thought it would come to this, that I should be driven to confess that I envied you.'
'Oh no, Ethel, not that, surely!'
'Ah, but I do! that this magnificent power should be given you to wield over all our hearts, that you should sing to us so sweetly, that we should be constrained to listen, that this girlish head should speak to us so wisely and so well,' touching Olive's thick coils with fingers that glittered in the moonlight.