He was still in the care of the watchman, whom he repaid for his trouble; and as he sprang on his back, he glanced up at the windows of Leoline's house.

It was all buried in profound darkness but that one window from which that faint light streamed, and he knew that she had not yet gone to rest.

For a moment he lingered and looked at it in the absurd way lovers will look, and was presently rewarded by seeing what he watched for--a shadow flit between him and the light.

The sight was a strong temptation to him to dismount and enter, and, under pretence of warning her against the Earl of Rochester and his "pretty page," see her once again.

But reflection, stepping rebukingly up to him, whispered indignantly, that his ladylove was probably by this time in her night robe, and not at home to lovers; and Sir Norman respectfully bowed to reflection's superior wisdom.