Still, it was very painful to have to be taken to task like this upon so tender a subject; and after sitting awhile with the old man, he suddenly jumped up, relit his cigar, which he had allowed to go out, and nodding shortly, he strolled out of the pagoda into the grounds. "Coming to his senses," said old Stuart, in a thoughtful way. "Hah! I should go rather cross it my lassie were to carry on like Perowne's Helen. Why, she drives nearly all the young fellows wild. The young hussy! she ought to be shut up in a convent till she comes to her senses. I'd have none of it at home with me." VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER NINE. A SUPPLEMENT TO A STRANGE EVENING. It was very beautiful in the gardens, and in spite of the number of people present, the place was so large that Hilton had no difficulty in finding a shady path in whose gloom he could walk up and down, finding the silence and darkness congenial in his present state of mind. Every here and there there were lanterns, and flashes of light came from the illuminated lawn in company with the strains of music; but for the greater part the light was that from the great soft stars in the begemmed arch overhead, and the music that of the swift river rippling against the bank. What should he do? he asked himself. Would he not be acting a wiser and a more manly part if he at once gave up his pursuit of Helen, and treated her with the contempt she deserved? For she did deserve contempt. He felt this, and he knew the state of the warm affection he had had for her. He knew she had flirted a little before, but he looked upon that as mere maiden trifling before she had been ready to bestow upon him all the riches of her fresh young love. He was ready to condone anything that had taken place before; but when, after some long experience, he found that he was only being made the plaything of the hour, and that she was ready to throw him over in favour of the newest comer, his heart rebelled. The fact was that Hilton was coming back to his normal senses very fast, and the idol that he had been worshipping and accrediting with all the perfections under the sun, was beginning to assume a very matter-of-fact, worldly aspect in his eyes. The chaplain, officer after officer on board ship, Chumbley, Mr Harley, himself--they had all been favoured lovers in turn, and then thrown over after a certain amount of trifling. "I cannot think how I could have been so foolish!" he exclaimed, suddenly; "and yet she is very beautiful--most beautiful; and when she gives a fellow one of those tender, beseeching looks, he need be made of iron to resist her." He walked up and down a little longer, finished his cigar, lit another, and went on, evidently feeling in better spirits. "I shall get over it in a few days," he said, with a half laugh, "unless I turn disappointed swain, and go and jump into the river. The crocodiles would soon make short work of me. By jove! how beautiful those fire-flies are!" he exclaimed.