’Two or three times during the last fortnight I heard, at a late hour in the night or very early in the morning, a flageolet play the little Hindu tune to which your daughter is so partial.  I thought for some time that some tuneful domestic, whose taste for music was laid under constraint during the day, chose that silent hour to imitate the strains which he had caught up by the ear during his attendance in the drawing-room.  But last night I sat late in my study, which is immediately under Miss Mannering’s apartment, and to my surprise I not only heard the flageolet distinctly, but satisfied myself that it came from the lake under the window.  Curious to know who serenaded us at that unusual hour, I stole softly to the window of my apartment.  But there were other watchers than me.  You may remember, Miss Mannering preferred that apartment on account of a balcony which opened from her window upon the lake.  Well, sir, I heard the sash of her window thrown up, the shutters opened, and her own voice in conversation with some person who answered from below.  This is not “Much ado about nothing”; I could not be mistaken in her voice, and such tones, so soft, so insinuating; and, to say the truth, the accents from below were in passion’s tenderest cadence too,—­but of the sense I can say nothing.  I raised the sash of my own window that I might hear something more than the mere murmur of this Spanish rendezvous; but, though I used every precaution, the noise alarmed the speakers; down slid the young lady’s casement, and the shutters were barred in an instant.  The dash of a pair of oars in the water announced the retreat of the male person of the dialogue.  Indeed, I saw his boat, which he rowed with great swiftness and dexterity, fly across the lake like a twelve-oared barge.  Next morning I examined some of my domestics, as if by accident, and I found the gamekeeper, when making his rounds, had twice seen that boat beneath the house, with a single person, and had heard the flageolet.  I did not care to press any farther questions, for fear of implicating Julia in the opinions of those of whom they might be asked.  Next morning, at breakfast, I dropped a casual hint about the serenade of the evening before, and I promise you Miss Mannering looked red and pale alternately.  I immediately gave the circumstance such a turn as might lead her to suppose that my observation was merely casual.  I have since caused a watch-light to be burnt in my library, and have left the shutters open, to deter the approach of our nocturnal guest; and I have stated the severity of approaching winter, and the rawness of the fogs, as an objection to solitary walks.  Miss Mannering acquiesced with a passiveness which is no part of her character, and which, to tell you the plain truth, is a feature about the business which I like least of all.  Julia has too much of her own dear papa’s disposition to be curbed in any of her humours, were there not some little lurking consciousness that it may be as prudent to avoid debate.