The sun had set, and, far beyond the length of the terrace, the undulating fields and moorland, and the distant darkening mountains, was a sky of red and gold. But Everell had eyes for nothing but the old mansion, which was to him a case holding the loveliest jewel he had ever beheld. As the dusk came on, light appeared at some of the lower windows; a few notes of laughter and other vocal sounds gave evidence of life. But nobody came forth. Everell dared not hope to catch a glimpse of the admired one that evening. He was at last sensible that night had fallen. All the colour had gone out of the West, and stars had appeared. He would have moved, to warm himself by walking, but that two of the upper windows began to glow. Were they _her_ windows? He watched with a beating heart, stilling even the sound of his breath. But several minutes passed without any manifestation even of a shadow momentarily darkening the panes. The light vanished. No doubt she had gone to bed, fatigued with the journey of the day. Certainly they must be her windows, for the others of the party were less likely to retire so early. Everell heaved a sigh, and threw a kiss at the windows. Of a sudden he was uncomfortably chilly: he bestirred himself, wished he had thought of bringing his cloak, and started off, as much upon a feeling that he could better meditate a course of procedure while walking as upon the impulse to set his blood in motion. But so far was he from any desire of going back to his inn that, without much conscious choice in the matter, he took a quite different direction, and followed the top of the glen-side into the park. He had been moving at a rapid pace for several minutes before he gave any heed to his whereabouts. He had been guided safely among bush, bracken, and the great trunks of the trees by that unconscious observation for which in those days there was no better name than instinct. He now saw—for in many places the trees were not too close together for the admission of some light from stars and sky—that he had penetrated a good distance into the park, and had left the course of the glen. As he stood gazing into the gloom, wondering how accurately he could retrace his steps, he heard the loud crack of a gun, fired seemingly about two furlongs away. “Poachers,” said he, after a moment’s thought.