The white figure neither moved nor showed any knowledge of his approach, but remained absolutely motionless, the head and shoulders in deep shadow, only the gloved hands and the sweeping draperies catching reflections from the fitful moonlight. If it was an assignation, the lady apparently was the only one faithful to the tryst, for there was no manly form beside her, nor manly accents raised in pleading or caress; indeed, voices of any _timbre_ there were not. A silence, deep and profound, held the little wood as in a spell, and the white-robed figure with the folded hands might have been the enchanted Princess, and Philip the Prince who was to wake her with a kiss, whose very sweetness would open the door once again to the outside world of romance, and passion, and disappointment. Poor Princess! let her dream on a little longer, wrapped in her unconscious, visionless slumber; the malignant fairy's curse of a hundred years ago is fast wearing itself away, and with love's awakening who can banish the twin sisters of jealousy and suspicion? Does not the fairest rose of all the garden fair bear within its flushing bosom the canker worm of deceit and decay? Treading noiselessly upon the short turf, Mr. Tremain came close upon the fair intriguer before she heard his footsteps, or was aware of his presence. The moon, which had been slightly obscured by the passing of some hazy clouds, now broke forth and shone down full upon the slight upright figure that had arisen hastily, and taken a forward step or two, as Philip's approach became known. The silver rays touched with seeming tenderness the dark hair rolled high upon the little head, and fell across the white neck, half concealed by a fleecy drapery, gathered together carelessly, and held by one slender hand in a long loose glove; they struck cool and sharp on the sweeping lines of the dress, accentuating each fold of the silken texture, and threw into bold relief the soft pallor of the delicately-rounded face, lingering longest where the dark brows made a mystery of the eyes, and kissing the curved lips that now were set and defiant; illuminating and defining each gracious curve and outline of the graceful form, with the same ethereal brilliancy that transformed the trickling fountain into an elixir of life, and awakened the boy-god Narcissus into perennial youthfulness. Mr. Tremain stopped spell-bound; and for a moment's space, in the hush that fell between them, each could hear the quick-drawn breath of the other, while the tinkling drops from Narcissus's vase became a Niagara in sound and volume. Then the spell was broken, as both, with involuntary impulse, spoke the other's name. "Patricia!" "Philip!" The woman was the first to recover her composure; with a nervous laugh, that rang a little untrue, and in a slightly strained voice, she broke the embarrassment of the moment.