"I do not see how I can manage it," said Hyacinth, as the notes of her lover's song died over the flowers. "Lady Vaughan always has the house locked and the keys taken to her at nine." "It will be very easy," returned Claude. "I know the library at the Chase has long windows that open on to the ground. You can leave one of them unfastened, and close the shutters yourself." "But I have never been out at night alone," she said, hesitatingly. "You will not be alone long, if you will only have courage to leave the house. I will meet you at the end of the grounds, and we will walk to the station together. We shall catch a train leaving Oakton soon after midnight, and shall reach London about six in the morning. I have an old aunt living there who will do anything for us. We will drive at once to her house; and then I will get a special license, and we will be married before noon." "How well you have arranged everything!" she said. "You must have been thinking of this for a long time past." "I have thought of nothing else, Cynthy. Then, when we are married, we will write at once to Lady Vaughan, telling her of our union; and instead of starting for that dreary Bergheim, we will go at once to sunny France, or fair and fruitful Italy, where the world will be at our feet, my darling. You are so beautiful, you will win all hearts." "Am I so beautiful?" she asked simply. "Lady Vaughan says good looks are sinful." "Lady Vaughan is--" The young man paused in time, for those clear, innocent eyes seemed to be penetrating to the very depths of his heart. "Lady Vaughan has forgotten that she was ever young and pretty herself," he said. "Now, Cynthy, tell me--will you do what I wish?" "Is it not a very serious thing to do?" she asked. "Would not people think ill of me?" His conscience reproached him a little when he answered "No"--the lovely, trusting face was so like the face of a child. "I do not expect you to say 'Yes' at once, Hyacinth--think it over. There lies before you happiness with me, or misery without me." "But, Claude," she inquired eagerly, "why need we elope? Why not ask Lady Vaughan if we can be married? She might say 'Yes.'" "She would not; I know better than you. She would refuse, and you would be carried off on Thursday, whether you liked it or not. If we are to be married at all we must elope--there is no help for it." The young girl did not at once consent, although the novelty, the romance, the promised happiness, tempted her as a promised journey pleases a child. "Think it over to-night," he said, "and let me know to-morrow." "How can I let you know?" she asked. "I shall be in prison all day; it is not often that I have an hour like this. I shall not be able to see you." "Perhaps not, but you can give me some signal. You have charge of the flowers in the great western window?" "Yes, I change them at my pleasure every day."