Star after star one sees decking the heavens with beauty.
"Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid." Such a night is this, delicate, tender, its charms heightened by a soft low wind that sweeps over the gardens and sends a sigh or two to the balconies above.
"Well!" says Mrs.Bethune.
She had led him to the far end of the balcony, where no seats are, and where, therefore, one may be sure of seclusion--for the moment, at all events.

She looks up at him.

Some pale pink lamps from behind throw a slight radiance on her--not too deep a radiance.

They are too far behind for that, but yet enough to soften her, to idealize her, and to render even more delicate the exquisite flesh tints of her face.
She has waited for her answer some time, but is well satisfied that no answer has been forthcoming.

Rylton's eyes are resting upon hers, as if surprised at this new fairness of hers.