The girl went off to her dressing.  And just before the hour when Miss Bird must arrive she came silently in again and stood before her guardian.  If Mr. Falkirk thought of humming-birds then, it could only have been of the tropical species.  A dark dress, that shimmered and glittered and fell into shadows with every motion, first caught his eye; but then Mr. Falkirk saw that it was looped with bouquets.  Now either Miss Hazel’s admirers had differing tastes, or a different image of her, or else each sent what he could get; for the bouquets were extremely diverse.  A bunch of heath and myrtle held up the dress here, a cluster of crimson roses held it back there; another cluster of gold and buff, a trailing handful of glowing fuchsias—­there is no need to go through the list.  But she had arranged them with great skill to set each other off; tied together by their own ribbands, catching up the shimmer of her dress.

Mr. Falkirk looked, and the fact that his face expressed nothing at all was rather significant.  One glance at the girl’s face he gave, and turned away.

‘Take care, my dear,’ he said.

‘Of what, sir?’

’How do you know but those flowers are bewitched?  You would not be the first woman who had put on her own chains.’

She smiled—­rather to herself than him—­throwing her little white cloak over her shoulders; and then, girl-like, went down on one knee and kissed her guardian’s hand.

‘Good-night, sir,’ she said.  The carriage came, and she was gone.

CHAPTER XXI.

MOONSHINE.

After the day of rain, and the afternoon of clearing wind and clouds, the evening of Mrs. Merrick’s party passed into one of those strange, unearthly nights when the whole world seems resolved into moonlight and a midsummer night’s dream.  So while gas and hot-house flowers had it all their own way in the house at Merricksdale, over the rest of the outside world the wondrous moonlight reigned supreme.  Not white and silvery, but as it were gilded and mellowed with the summer warmth.  Step by step it invaded the opening ranks of forest trees; and dark shadows wound noiselessly away from the close pursuit.  Not a wind whispered; not a moving thing was in sight along the open road.  Except indeed Mr. Rollo, who—­not invited to Mrs. Merrick’s, and just returned from a short journey—­was getting over the ground that lay between the railway station and home on foot.  And his way took him along the highway that stretched from Crocus to the gates of Chickaree.

Now moonlight is a very bewildering thing—­and thoughts do sometimes play the very will-o’-the-wisp with one.  And when somebody you know is at a party, there is a funny inclination to go through the motions at least, and be up as late as anybody else.  So it was with a somewhat sudden recollection that Mr. Rollo bethought him of what his watch might say.  Just then he was in a belt of shadow, where trees crowded out the moon; but the next sharp turn of the road was all open and flooded with the yellow light.