Bella did not enter the cottage, as it was very hot within, and the night was simply glorious. She took off her hat and veil and seated herself in the tiny garden to enjoy the soft breeze. There was not a cloud in the darkly-blue sky, and a serene moon moved majestically across the starry heavens. The cottage, with the lamp light shining behind the pink blinds, looked pretty and picturesque, so Bella resolved to wait for Dora's return in the open air. She had ample to think about, for the concert had failed to inspire her with cheerful thoughts. How could it when the clouds which environed her were so densely black? Poor Bella was not religious, and had small faith in the goodness of God. This was natural as God's name had rarely been mentioned by Captain Huxham and his sister, who were perfect heathens of the animal sort. So Bella, having no hope to cling to and seeing no ray of light piercing the darkness around her, began to conceive a cheerless future in which the figure of Cyril did not appear. The fact that his father had murdered hers ended the chance of marriage once and for all. He would doubtless go abroad and try to forget her, while she, bereft of love, home, money, and father, would seek some humble situation as a nursery governess: and it must be confessed that, as things were, Bella Huxham had good reason to despair. Any chance of happiness seemed to be as far removed from her as was the moon in the heaven above her. The seat upon which she was resting stood close to the white palings of the garden, and under a leafy chestnut, now in the full glory of its summer foliage. Occasionally a person would pass, or a child singing would run home, but for the most part the road was deserted. Nearly all the village people were at the concert, and it would not end for at least another half hour. Only then would the roadway be full, but in the meantime, save for occasional interruptions, Bella had solitude and peace. She was therefore extremely ill-pleased when a dark figure halted at the palings and, leaning over, removed its hat to reveal the delicate features of Silas Pence. "I give you good-evening, Miss Huxham," said the preacher, in his refined but somewhat shrill voice. "Good evening," said Bella coldly. "Had you not better return to the concert, Mr. Pence? As the chairman you cannot leave the platform." "I have presided most of the evening and have recited my piece," said Pence eagerly. "Now, on the plea of feeling faint I have left that hot room, and I am here to commune with you in the glory of the night. Is it not beautiful, Miss Huxham?" and he recited the well-known lines of Addison:-- _Soon as the shades of night prevail_, _The moon takes up the wondrous tale_, _And nightly to the listening earth_ _Repeats the story of her birth._ "Did you come here to recite, Mr. Pence?" said Bella disagreeably. "If so I must go indoors. I have been entertained enough this evening."