poor lost brother. Oh, let me go! Let me go!"

Her resolution shamed him. He rose to her level, in spite of
himself.

"I dare not tell you that you are wrong," he said. "I only ask
you to wait a little till we are calmer, before you speak of the
future again." He pointed to the summer-house. "Go in, my poor
girl. Rest, and compose yourself, while I try to think."

He left her, and paced up and down the formal walks in the
garden. Away from the maddening fascination of her presence, his
mind grew clearer. He resisted the temptation to think of her
tenderly; he set himself to consider what it would be well to do
next.

The moonlight was seen no more. Misty and starless, the dark sky
spread its majestic obscurity over the earth. Linley looked
wearily toward the eastern heaven. The darkness daunted him; he
saw in it the shadow of his own sense of guilt. The gray
glimmering of dawn, the songs of birds when the pure light softly
climbed the sky, roused and relieved him. With the first radiant
rising of the sun he returned to the summer-house.

"Do I disturb you?" he asked, waiting at the door.

"No."

"Will you come out and speak to me?"