Mr. Mohun consented, and Lily almost hurried Alethea upstairs, to put on her bonnet and shawl. When she came down she found that the walking party had increased. Jane and Reginald would both have been in despair to have missed such a frolic; Maurice hoped to fall in with the droning beetle, or to lay violent hands on a glow-worm; Emily did not like to be left behind, and even Mr. Mohun was going, being in the midst of an interesting conversation with Mr. Weston. Lily, with an absurd tragic gesture, told Alethea that amongst so many, such a crowd, all the grace and sweet influence of the walk was ruined. The ‘sweet influence’ was ruined as far as Lily was concerned, but not by the number of her companions. It was the uneasy feeling caused by her over-strained spirits and foolish chattering that prevented her from really entering into the charm of the soft air, the clear moon, the solemn deep blue sky, the few stars, the white lilies on the dark pond, the long shadows of the trees, the freshness of the dewy fields. Her simplicity, and her genuine delight in the loveliness of the scene, was gone for the time, and though she spoke much of her enjoyment, it was in a high-flown affected style. When the last good-night had been exchanged, and Lily had turned homeward, she felt the stillness which succeeded their farewells almost oppressive; she started at the dark shadow of a tree which lay across the path, and to shake off a sensation of fear which was coming over her, she put her arm within Claude’s, exclaiming, ‘You naughty boy, you will be stupid and silent, say what I will.’ ‘I heard enough to-night to strike me dumb,’ said Claude. For one moment Lily thought he was in jest, but the gravity of his manner showed her that he was both grieved and displeased, and she changed her tone as she said, ‘Oh! Claude, what do you mean?’ ‘Do you not know?’ said Claude. ‘What, you mean about Eleanor?’ said Lily; ‘you must fall upon Miss Jenny there—it was her doing.’ ‘Jane’s tongue is a pest,’ said Claude; ‘but she was not the first to speak evil falsely of one to whom you owe everything. Oh! Lily, I cannot tell you how that allusion of yours sounded.’ ‘What allusion?’ asked Lily in alarm, for she had never seen her gentle brother so angry. ‘You know,’ said he. ‘Indeed, I do not,’ exclaimed Lily, munch frightened. ‘Claude, Claude, you must mistake, I never could have said anything so very shocking.’ ‘I hope I do,’ said Claude; ‘I could hardly believe that one of the little ones who cannot remember him, could have referred to him in that way—but for you!’ ‘Him?’ said Lilias. ‘I do not like to mention his name to one who regards him so lightly,’ said Claude. ‘Think over what passed, if you are sufficiently come to yourself to remember it.’ After a little pause Lily said in a subdued voice, ‘Claude, I hope you do not believe that I was thinking of what really happened when I said that.’ ‘Pray what were you thinking of?’