Who that has visited a scene of deep beauty by moonlight has not felt an awe stealing over him, as if some unseen presence were by? Such a presence seemed to be floating around us, whispering that we were on haunted ground. Was it the far-off murmur of a cascade or the faint voice of some one calling for help that was wafted to our ears? So firm was my belief that the sound was of human origin that I appealed to my uncle, who had been strangely silent. "Did you not hear a distant cry, as of some one in pain?" "I thought so, but it must be fancy. Let us listen again." We were silent for a time, but there was no repetition of the sound. "Some shepherds calling one another," he said, resuming his cigar with a laugh. "We are becoming influenced by the superstitions of the place." He seemed to have forgotten the communication he had promised to make, so I reverted to it. "You were going to tell me a piece of news, I think?" "Ah! so I was. (If you wouldn't mind turning your head from me, Frank; your eyes seem to have an unearthly gleam by this light. Thank you!) Well, here is my news. Daphne had a proposal to-day. You can guess from whom." "Is that your news? Then it is no news at all. I know it already." "The deuce you do! How did _you_ learn it?" "I was present during the whole interview." I gave him an account of how I came to play the spy, adding: "How did you learn it?" "She told me directly after parting from him. Poor Daphne! she was quite upset over it--crying, in fact." "She might have spared her tears," I grumbled. "His love was not so disinterested that she need weep. My candid opinion is that the fellow is so mad over his art that it governs even his choice of a wife, and he selects Daphne because he thinks her figure will serve as a model for some of his pictures." And I detailed to my uncle those utterances of the artist that seemed to bear out my opinion. "A naïve avowal, certainly. His mode of lovemaking was a fine example of 'How not to do it.' And so," he continued, after a brief interval, "Daphne still hopes and dreams that George will return. Absurd! I thought she had given up that idea long ago. However, let him return. He shall never have Daphne--never!" He said that last word in a decidedly emphatic manner, and scarcely had he said it when a startled expression crossed his face, the cigar dropped from his lips, and he looked nervously round in all directions. "My dear uncle, what is the matter?" said I, amused at his alarm. "Didn't you hear a laugh?" "A laugh? No! Why, you are becoming nervous!"