"Oh, in many ways! You agitate me beyond bearing. If Sir Francis----" "Well?" he laughed into her trembling sentences. "Are you afraid of Sir Francis?" She gave him a bewildered piteous look. "Afraid! Yes, I am afraid of them all. What do you want to say to me? Ah, there is nothing to be said!" "Everything, I think," he answered. "Give me a chance to speak." The dim confusing and shifting light of moon and lamp, falling brokenly through the stirring branches, only half revealed to her his face, turned towards her, pale between the pomaded curls. "I cannot hear you, my lord." He caught her little wrist lightly. "You are not going to betroth yourself to Sir Francis?" "I have assured you of that," she panted. "This is cruelty, my lord. Ah, release my hand!" He did not. The lace at his cuff trembled on her bare arm. They stood very close together, she straining her head away from him so that her hair and scarf mingled floated out on the breeze and touched his breast. "This is impossible," murmured Miss Boyle. "I must return." Suddenly she faced him. "Why are you doing this?" He freed her hand. "Read my actions by your own heart, Selina," he smiled. "You care for me, do you not? I cannot expect it put into words, but at least look at me." "I think you must be heartless, or possessed, to-night, my lord." She made a quick step back among the laurels, for as she spoke Sir Francis was upon them. He had come swiftly and silently, it seemed, down the path from the pavilion, and was within a step of them before they saw him. "Miss Boyle--madam!" he cried, and looked from one to another in a breathless manner. The Earl bowed with a slight air of mockery. He seemed pleased, elated, by this sudden incursion. "Good even, Sir Francis!" he said. Miss Boyle gathered herself together and took a step towards her cousin. "Let us go back to the house, sir," she said. Sir Francis flushed and hesitated. My lord observed him with narrowed eyes. "We are engaged for this dance," said Miss Boyle desperately. "I think it hath begun." She laid her hand tremblingly on her cousin's arm, and he was turning in answer to the appeal that she breathed forth to her very finger-tips, when Rose Lyndwood spoke. "I vow you are very fickle, Miss Boyle." His soft voice was pointedly reckless. "Had you not promised me your company upon the lake?" There followed the pause of a second, while my lord flung his domino over his shoulder and fingered the rose under his chin. "Is this true?" asked Sir Francis. The Earl's eyes seemed to laugh. "Call it a lie. Will it not equally serve?" "My lord!" cried Miss Boyle. "What is your meaning, Lord Lyndwood?" inquired Sir Francis softly. "Not the same as you apprehended it last night," answered Rose Lyndwood, and laughed outright. "And, for the rest, is it ever worth while to ask my meaning?" "Come away!" breathed Miss Boyle. "No." Her cousin turned from her. "His lordship hath somewhat to answer to me."