The new moon brightened above the rim of the opposite hill, and touched the river below with silver reflections.

On the grass banks sloping away beneath the terrace gardens, sheets of bluebells shone almost whitely on the grass.

The silent house rose against the dark woods, whitened also here and there by the blossom of wild cherry-trees.
Lady Mary stepped from the open French windows of the drawing-room into the still, scented air of the April night.

She stood leaning against the stone balcony, and gazing at the wonderful panorama of the valley and overlapping hills; where the little river threaded its untroubled course between daisied meadows and old orchards and red crumbling banks.
A broad-shouldered figure appeared in the window, and a man's step crunched the gravel of the path which Lady Mary had crossed.
"For once I have escaped, you see," she said, without turning round.
"They will not venture into the night air.

Sometimes I think they will drive me mad--Isabella and Georgina." "Mary!" cried a shrill voice from the drawing-room, "how can you be so imprudent! John, how can you allow her!" John stepped back to the window.