The first picture was very beautiful. I looked out into a bright moonlight night; some fleecy clouds were hanging across the sky, seen through trees that were now nearly bare of foliage. There was a pleasant sound of wind passing over the forest; the rustling of withered leaves. I stood close by a footpath, and could hear steps approaching; the crack of some withered branch trodden underfoot, the rustling of a dress, the whispering of voices. In another moment two figures became indistinctly visible; they were coming toward me. As they approached I caught part of their conversation. The girl was speaking. "I don’t like it at all," she said; "I am frightened. Why could not we be married in the ordinary way? It is horrid not having a proper wedding." "But, dearest," the man answered, "you see it is impossible. Your father, you say, has told you that he will not hear of your marrying me because he has got into his mind that I am poor, and he insists on your marrying that fool Sydney, whom he thinks to be as rich as Croesus." "But," questioned the girl, "could we not try to get his consent? Could you not convince him that after all you are well off? I am sure he would rather I married a lord, if only he did not think you were quite poor. Besides, as he is rich, it would not really matter very much." "It will be much easier, darling, to bring him round after the wedding, when he sees there is no help for it. He will be as right as possible when once it is all over, and I introduce his daughter to him as Lady Vancome." They were passing as he spoke, but it caused me no feeling of surprise that as they came near they took no notice of me. I was conscious that though present I was invisible, and though a witness, powerless to act. I recognized them before they came near, and thought Vera’s face more ethereally lovely seen in this pale moonlight than it seemed possible for an earthly face to be. The lower and weaker feature were in shadow, the eyes that looked up to her companion were ennobled by a sadness which added to their depth. Vancome, who had his arm round the girl, was evidently somewhat agitated. Cowardice and weakness were expressed in every feature. He was more what people used to call handsome, than what in the present day would be considered worthy of admiration. The girl looked round into the wood, and visibly trembling, said--"I don’t like it at all. Suppose some one were to see us at the station, what would they think? Oh, Frank, let us go back." She stopped just opposite where I stood, and looking straight through me, cried--"It is horrible here! There is something there!" And she stretched out her arm and pointed to where I stood, and her hand seemed to go into my heart and cut me as though her outstretched finger had been a poignard.