“I am not vexed,” said Kate, with a soft little smile among her tears, which somehow diffused itself into the darkness, one could not tell how. He felt it warm him and brighten him, though he could not see it; and thus they made one silent round, pausing for a moment where the lilies stood up in that tall pillar, glimmering through the night and breathing out sweetness. John, whose heart was full of all unspeakable things, came to a moment’s pause before them, though he was faithful to his promise, and did not speak. Some angel seemed to be by, saying _Ave_, as in that scene which the old painters always adorn with the stately flower of Mary. John believed all the poets had said of women at that moment, in the sweetness of the summer dark. Hail, woman, full of grace! The whole air was full of angelic salutation. But it was he, the man, who had the privilege of supporting her, of protecting her, of saving her in danger. Thus the young man raved, with his heart full. And Kate in the silence, leaning on his arm, dried her tears, and trembled with a strange mixture of courage and perplexity and emotion. And then she wondered what Mrs Mitford would say. Mrs Mitford said nothing when the two came in by the open window, with eyes dazzled by the sudden entrance into the light. Kate’s eyes were more dazzling than the lamp, if anybody had looked at them. The tears were dry, but they had left a humid radiance behind, and the fresh night air had ruffled the gold in her hair, and heightened the colour on her cheeks, which betrayed the commotion within. Mrs Mitford made no special remark, except that she feared the tea was cold, and that she had just been about to ring to have it taken away. “You must have tired her wandering so long about the garden. You should not be thoughtless, John,” said his mother; “and it is almost time for prayers.” “It was my fault,” said Kate; “it was so pleasant out of doors, and quiet, and sweet. I am sorry we have kept you waiting. I did not know it was so late.” “Oh, my dear, I do not mind,” said Mrs Mitford, smothering a half-sigh; for, to be sure, she had been alone all the time while they were wandering among the lilies; and she was not used to it--yet. “But Dr Mitford is very particular about the hour for prayers, and you must make haste, like a good child, with your tea. I never like to put him out.” “Oh, not for the world!” cried Kate; and she swallowed the cold tea very hurriedly, and went for Dr Mitford’s books, and arranged them on the table with her own hands; and then she came softly behind John’s mother, and gave her a kiss, as light as if a rose-leaf had blown against her cheek. She did not offer any explanation of this sudden caress, but seated herself close by Mrs Mitford, and clasped her hands in her lap like a young lady in a picture of family devotion; and then Dr Mitford’s boots were heard to creak along the long passage which led from his study, and the bell was rung for prayers.