As we sat down in the screened corner of the broad terrace, with the first grave approach of twilight in the sky, and the curved trumpet of the young moon hanging in the west, it might have seemed to an onlooker that the gods of chance had oddly ordered our little company. Miss Patricia in white was a picture of serenity, with the smile constant about her lips, happy in her hope for the future. Rosalind, fresh to these surroundings, showed clearly her pleasure in the pretty setting of the scene, and read into it, in bright phrases, the delight of a story-book incident. "Let me see," she said reflectively, "just who we are: we are the lady of the castle perilous dining _al fresco_, with the abbess, who is also a noble lady, come across the fields to sit at meat with her. And you, sir, are a knight full orgulous, feared in many lands, and sworn to the defense of these ladies." "And you,"--and Miss Pat's eyes were beautifully kind and gentle, as she took the cue and turned to Rosalind, "you are the well-loved daughter of my house, faithful in all service, in all ways self-forgetful and kind, our hope, our joy and our pride." It may have been the spirit of the evening that touched us, or only the light of her countenance and the deep sincerity of her voice; but I knew that tears were bright in all our eyes for a moment. And then Rosalind glanced at the western heavens through the foliage. "There are the stars, Aunt Pat--brighter than ever to-night for your birthday." Presently, as the dark gathered about us, the candles were lighted, and their glow shut out the world. To my relief the three women carried the talk alone, leaving me to my own thoughts of Helen and my plans for restoring her to her aunt with no break in the new confidence that Rosalind had inspired. I had so completely yielded myself to this undercurrent of reflection that I was startled to find Miss Pat with the coffee service before her. "Larry, you are dreaming. How can I remember whether you take sugar?" Sister Margaret's eyes were upon me reproachfully for my inattention, and my heart-beats quickened as eight strokes of the chapel chime stole lingeringly through the quiet air. I had half-raised my cup when I was startled by a question from Miss Pat--a request innocent enough and spoken, it seemed, utterly without intention. "Let me see your ring a moment, Helen." Sister Margaret flashed a glance of inquiry at me, but Rosalind met the situation instantly.