Conversation fell on the new purchase, and their approaching departure for Rice Lake; and, observing this did not appear to have a very exhilarating effect on the Major, Colonel Rolleston continued,—­“When will you come down and see us, Fane?  We shall get very tired of our recluse life, and want some one to bring us the news.”

The Major’s face brightened, but, stealing a glance at Cecil’s, which only expressed consternation, it was speedily overcast, and he returned an evasive answer.  Looking gloomily for the relief he expected to discern in her countenance, he received a swift glance of gratitude, which uncomplimentary graciousness completed his discomfiture.

Soon after dinner some garrison duty summoned away Colonel Rolleston, and the others returned to the garden, where daylight struggled with the newly-risen moon.  A soft breeze came up from the lake, reviving after the glaring day.  Cecil was distraite and silent, so Lilla’s vivacious tongue attracted around her the gentlemen of the group, and, without any effort of his, Major Fane found himself somewhat apart with Miss Rolleston.

Though heart-whole when we first introduced him, he was now really in love with Cecil,—­that is to say, he approved of and wished to marry her.

As an eligible, many determined efforts had been made for his capture, and the absence of any desire on her part to attract him gave first the feeling of security which soon led to a stronger one.  If not pretty, she was graceful, especially so just now, he thought, in that unconscious, reflective attitude.

Fane became nervous:  it wasn’t often he got the chance of being alone with her, and she might immediately rejoin the others; but just then Cecil, coming out of her reverie, looked up, and said,—­“Don’t you want to smoke?  Not here, but come over to the summer-house where the children do their lessons.”

This proposal from the reserved Cecil, who had lately been so conspicuously repellent?  He thought the change too good so be believed, and, without another asking, accompanied her to the arbour; but she insisted on the ostensible motive of their going there being carried out.

“Do you think, Cecil,” said he, darting on his opportunity, “I want anything else when I am alone with you?”

Fane had, as he thought, broken the ice; but the next instant he was uncertain if she had heard or understood.  A moonbeam showed him her face,—­it was very pale with a look of determination on it, and her eyes were bright and steady.

“Yes,” said she, after a pause, “I am glad we are alone.  Major Fane, I have known you such a long time, I want to ask a favour of you, and tell you a secret.”

The most confident lover might have found something ominous in these words.  Fane felt as if he had made a false step; but he answered, stiffly, perhaps,—­“You must have known me to very little purpose, Miss Rolleston, if you are not assured how gladly I would help or be of use to you in any way.”