"Nothing? Think again, Miss Markland."
"Yes; say to him, that the mirror which once reflected his image in my heart, is shattered forever."
"Think of your father," urged the stranger.
"Go, sir!" And Fanny again waved her hand for him to leave her. "Your words are an offence to me."
A form intercepted at this moment the light which came through one of the doors opening upon the portico, and Fanny stepped forward a pace or two.
"Ah! Miss Markland, I've been looking for you."
It was Mr. Willet. The stranger moved away as the other approached, yet remained near enough to observe them. Fanny made no response.
"There is a bit of moonlight scenery that is very beautiful," said Mr. Willet. "Come with me to the other side of the house."
And he offered his arm, through which Fanny drew hers without hesitation. They stepped from the piazza, and passed in among the fragrant shrubbery, following one of the garden walks, until they were in view of the scene to which Mr. Willet referred. A heavy bank of clouds had fallen in the east, and the moon was just struggling through the upper, broken edges, along which her gleaming silver lay in fringes, broad belts, and fleecy masses, giving to the dark vapours below a deeper blackness. Above all this, the sky was intensely blue, and the stars shone down with a sharp, diamond-like lustre. Beneath the bank of clouds, yet far enough in the foreground of this picture to partly emerge from obscurity, stood, on an eminence, a white marble building, with columns of porticos, like a Grecian temple. Projected against the dark background were its classic outlines, looking more like a vision of the days of Pericles than a modern verity.
"Only once before have I seen it thus," said Mr. Willet, after his companion had gazed for some time upon the scene without speaking, "and ever since, it has been a picture in my memory."