‘Lilias,’ said Miss Weston, somewhat abruptly, ’did you not wish to sing with me this evening?’

And thus she kept Lilias from any further public mischief that evening.

Claude, exceedingly vexed by what had passed, with great injustice, laid the blame upon Miss Weston, and instead of rendering her the honour which she really deserved for the tact with which she had put an end to the embarrassment of all parties, he fancied she was anxious to display her talents for music, and thus only felt fretted by the sounds.

Mr. Weston and his daughter intended to walk home that evening, as it was a beautiful moonlight night.

‘Oh, let us convoy you!’ exclaimed Lilias; ’I do long to show Alethea a glow-worm.  Will you come, Claude?  May we, papa?  Feel how still and warm it is.  A perfect summer night, not a breath stirring.’

Mr. Mohun consented, and Lily almost hurried Alethea upstairs, to put on her bonnet and shawl.  When she came down she found that the walking party had increased.  Jane and Reginald would both have been in despair to have missed such a frolic; Maurice hoped to fall in with the droning beetle, or to lay violent hands on a glow-worm; Emily did not like to be left behind, and even Mr. Mohun was going, being in the midst of an interesting conversation with Mr. Weston.  Lily, with an absurd tragic gesture, told Alethea that amongst so many, such a crowd, all the grace and sweet influence of the walk was ruined.  The ‘sweet influence’ was ruined as far as Lily was concerned, but not by the number of her companions.  It was the uneasy feeling caused by her over-strained spirits and foolish chattering that prevented her from really entering into the charm of the soft air, the clear moon, the solemn deep blue sky, the few stars, the white lilies on the dark pond, the long shadows of the trees, the freshness of the dewy fields.  Her simplicity, and her genuine delight in the loveliness of the scene, was gone for the time, and though she spoke much of her enjoyment, it was in a high-flown affected style.

When the last good-night had been exchanged, and Lily had turned homeward, she felt the stillness which succeeded their farewells almost oppressive; she started at the dark shadow of a tree which lay across the path, and to shake off a sensation of fear which was coming over her, she put her arm within Claude’s, exclaiming, ’You naughty boy, you will be stupid and silent, say what I will.’

‘I heard enough to-night to strike me dumb,’ said Claude.

For one moment Lily thought he was in jest, but the gravity of his manner showed her that he was both grieved and displeased, and she changed her tone as she said, ‘Oh!  Claude, what do you mean?’

‘Do you not know?’ said Claude.

‘What, you mean about Eleanor?’ said Lily; ’you must fall upon Miss Jenny there—­it was her doing.’

‘Jane’s tongue is a pest,’ said Claude; ’but she was not the first to speak evil falsely of one to whom you owe everything.  Oh!  Lily, I cannot tell you how that allusion of yours sounded.’