Kaituna sat down on a bench placed under the drawing-room windows, and Archie, standing beside her, lighted a cigarette after asking and obtaining the requisite permission. The voices of the vicar and his curate sounded in high dispute from the adjacent library; there was a murmur of conversation from within, where Mrs. Belswin was talking to the other lovers, and at intervals the sharp notes of the piano struck abruptly through the voices, the songs of the nightingale, and the charm of the night. "What I miss very much in the sky here," said Kaituna, looking up at the stars, "is the Southern Cross." "Yes; I have seen it myself," replied Archie, removing his cigarette. "You know I have travelled a great deal." "And intend to travel still more!" "Perhaps." "You don't seem very sure, Mr. Maxwell. What about South America?" "I thought I had told you that I had changed my mind about South America." Kaituna flushed a little at the significance of his words, and cast down her eyes. "I believe you said something about putting off your journey till the end of the year." "I'll put it off altogether, if a certain event takes place." "And that certain event?" "Cannot you guess?" Duplicity on the part of the woman, who knew perfectly well the event to which the young man referred. "No, I am afraid I can't." "Miss Pethram--Kaituna, I----" "Hush! Mr. Clendon is singing." It was only to gain time for reflection, as she knew that a declaration of love trembled on his lips, but with feminine coquetry could not help blowing hot to his cold. And Toby was singing a bold martial song, with a curious accompaniment like the trotting of a horse--a song which thrilled through the listeners, with its fierce exultation and savage passion. On God and his prophet I seven times called me; I opened the Koran--the omen appalled me; I read it--thou wast to be bride to another; I knew my betrayer, 'twas him I called brother, Zulema! Zulema! I sprang on my steed as he waited beside me, Then rode through the desert with Allah to guide me; Fierce blew the sirocco, its terrors were idle; I galloped till dawn to be first at your bridal Zulema! Zulema! I rode to the tent-door, your father's tribe knew me; They dreamed of the glory they'd gain if they slew me; I dashed through the cowards--I met my betrayer, He fell from his saddle, and I was his slayer, Zulema! Zulema! You ran from your dwelling--your father's spears missed me; You sprang to my saddle with fervour to kiss me; We broke through the press of your kinsfolk, my foemen; I won thee, Zulema, so false was the omen; Zulema! Zulema! "Ah!" said Archie, with a long breath, when the fierce cry had rung out for the last time, "that is the way to win a bride."