"You knew him at home here?" "Knew Captain Brand? Like a brother, sir. Sad dog, but a noble man--a noble man." What bright intelligence was in the deep gray eyes which watched the officer's face. But he did not see them, he was so absorbed by his subject. A pause occurred in the gossip, for the band was having a rest of forty bars, and the flageolet was weak. At the request of Lady Juliana, Margaret carried her careladen face to the piano and played a long time, what--she knew not, but gradually, from mechanical measure, the chords grew into solemn pulsations, and a vision rose up before her introverted eyes of a darkened battle-field, where the cannon belched forth its fiery death, the bugle sounded the retreat, the soldiers shouted, and cheered, and fell. She saw the smoke and dust, the red blood pouring, the brave falling fast; and a shrouded moon, with three black stripes across its disk, was shining weirdly over a man lying on his broken sword, his head upon the mane of his pulseless horse, his dark, dim eyes raised supplicatingly. And a skulker among the dead was bending over him with demoniac eagerness, and the dastardly dagger was plunged hilt-deep, and the man who had been called a "hero" sank beneath the feet of the dead--and the vision passed away. "Miss Walsingham." She turned her electric face--her hands fell from the ivory keys. The gentlemen had entered the drawing-room, and the Duke of Piermont stood beside Lieutenant Falconcourt, waiting to be introduced. "I have much pleasure in this introduction," said his grace, offering her an arm the instant that their hands met. "I would like much to talk with you, so honor me by promenading with me in the conservatory. In the first place, what was that extraordinary piece which you played?" "I do not know--was I playing?" His grace gazed at his companion in amazement. Doubt and terror still struggled for the mastery on her pallid features; the large, mystic eyes were fixed sadly upon vacancy. Miss Walsingham was quite unconscious that she was walking through the centre of the long suite with a man who was coveted from her by half the ladies there. "Is it possible that it was an impromptu?" "I--pardon me, your grace--I was playing without thinking." "Do you know what it suggested to me? A battle-field--the retreat of the conquered--darkness--treachery, and _murder_." "My lord duke, what day of the month is this?" She stopped in her sudden waking up to horror, and in her sudden eagerness she trembled as she stood. "The first of September." "_The first of September._ I shall not forget." "You are certainly distressed by something, Miss Walsingham. Let me be of service to you?" "You can be of service to me, your grace. You can allow me to retire, and make some apology for me to Lady Julie which will not alarm her." The young duke bit his lip. "You will return to me?" he asked. "Not to-night."