As the young girl passed, she heard the rustle of a garment, and a quick, sudden gasp, and cried out in terror.
Ordener rushed forward. With one arm he supported her, with the other he vainly tried to grasp the lamp which she had dropped, and which went out.
“It is I,” he said softly.
“It is Ordener!” said the girl; for the last echo of that voice, which she had not heard for a year, still rang in her ear.
And the moon, passing by, revealed the joy of her fair face. Then she repeated, in timid confusion, freeing herself from the young man’s arms, “It is my lord Ordener.”
“Himself, Countess Ethel.”
“Why do you call me countess?”
“Why do you call me my lord?”
The young girl smiled, and was silent. The young man was silent, and sighed. She was first to break the silence.
“How came you here?”