“Just a glimpse of the moonlight on the mountains,” he said, “before we say good-night!”

She went with him without a moment’s thought.  She was as one caught in the meshes of a great enchantment.  He opened the door, and she passed through on to the verandah.

The music throbbed into silence behind them.  Before them lay a fairy-world of dazzling silver and deepest, darkest sapphire.  The mountains stood in solemn grandeur, domes of white mystery.  The great vault of the sky was alight with stars, and a wonderful moon hung like a silver shield almost in the zenith.

“How—­beautiful!” breathed Dinah.

The air was crystal clear, cold but not piercing.  The absolute stillness held her spell-bound.

“It is like a dream-world,” she whispered.

“In which you reign supreme,” he murmured back.

She glanced at him with uncomprehending eyes.  Her veins were still throbbing with the ecstasy of the dance.

“Oh, how I wish I had wings!” she suddenly said.  “To swim through that glorious ether right above the mountain-tops as one swims through the sea!  Don’t you think flying must be very like swimming?”

“With variations,” said Eustace.

His eyes dwelt upon her.  They were fierily blue in that great flood of moonlight.  His hand still rested upon her waist.

“But what a mistake to want the impossible!” he said, after a moment.

“I always do,” said Dinah.  “At least,” she glanced up at him again, “I always have—­until to-night.”

“And to-night?” he questioned, dropping his voice.

“Oh, I am quite happy to-night,” she said, with a little laugh, “even without the wings.  If I hadn’t thought of them, I should have nothing left to wish for.”

“I wish I could say the same,” said Sir Eustace, with the faint mocking smile at the corners of his lips.

“What can you want more?” asked Dinah innocently.

He leaned to her.  “A big thing—­a small thing!  Would you give it to me, my elf of the mountains, if I dared to tell you what it was?”

Her eyes fluttered and fell before the flaming ardour of his.  “I—­I don’t know,” she faltered, in sudden confusion.  “I expect so—­if I could.”

His arm slipped round her.  “Would you?” he whispered.  “Would you?”

She gave a little gasp, caught unawares like a butterfly on the wing.  All the magic of the night seemed suddenly to be concentrated upon her like fairy batteries.  Her first feeling was dismay, followed instantly by the wonder if she could be dreaming.  And then, as she felt the drawing of his arm, something vehement, something almost fierce, awoke within her, clamouring wildly for freedom.

It was a blind instinct, but she obeyed it without question.  She had no choice.

“Oh no!” she cried.  “Oh no!  I couldn’t!” and wrested herself from him in a panic.

He let her go, and she heard him laugh as she broke away.  But she did not wait for more.  To linger was unthinkable.  Urged by that imperative, inner prompting she turned and fled, not pausing for a moment’s thought.