"Then you are studying?" she said. "Yes, that is it. I am trying to make up for lost time. I have some examinations to pass; and my father has sent me down to Dr. Hervey because he is known everywhere as the cleverest coach in England." A cloud came for just one half minute across the face of the moon; the soft, sweet darkness startled Leone. "I must go now," she said; "it is not only getting late, but growing dark." "I shall see you again," he cried, "do promise me." "Nay, you have little faith in promises," she replied; and he watched her as she vanished from among the alder-trees. It was an unexpected meeting; and strange and startling consequences soon followed. CHAPTER IV. AN INTERESTING TETE-A-TETE. "Where have you been, Leone?" asks Farmer Noel. She had begun a new life. It seemed years since she had left him, while he sat in the same place, smoking the same pipe, probably thinking the same thoughts. She came in with the brightness and light of the moon in her face; dew-drops lay on her dark hair, her beautiful face was flushed with the wind, so fair, so gracious, so royal, so brilliant. He looked at her in helpless surprise. "Where have you been?" he repeated. She looked at him with a sweet, dreamy smile. "I have been to the mill-stream." And she added in a lower tone, "I have been to heaven." It had been heaven to her--this one hour spent with one refined by nature and by habit--a gentleman, a man of taste and education. Her uncle wondered that evening at the light that came on her face, at the cheerful sound of her voice, the smile that came over her lips. She was usually so restless and discontented. It was a break in her life. She wanted something to interrupt the monotony, and now it had come. She had seen and spoken to not only a very handsome and distinguished man, but a lord, the son of an earl. He had admired her, said her face was like a poem; and the words brought a sweet, musing smile to her face. When the sun shone in her room the next morning she awoke with a sense of something new and beautiful in her life; it was a pleasure to hear the birds sing; a pleasure to bathe in the clear, cold, fresh water; a pleasure to breathe the sweet, fragrant morning air. There was a half wonder as to whether she could see him again. The poetical, dramatic instinct of the girl was all awake; she tried to make herself as pretty as she could. She put on a dress of pale pink--a plain print, it is true, but the beautiful head and face rose from it as a flower from its leaves. She brushed back the rippling hair and placed a crimson rose in its depths. Then she smiled at herself. Was it likely she should see him? What should bring the great son of an earl to the little farm at Rashleigh? But the blue and white pigeons, the little chickens--all fared well that morning. Leone was content.