Suddenly Alizon, who looked pale and worn out with excitement, burst into a passionate flood of tears, as she leaned against her husband's breast. "My dearest," cried Guy, in alarm, "what is the matter?" "Nothing," she sobbed, putting her arms round his neck, "only--only I am so happy." "You've got a curious way of showing it," said Guy, cheerfully, although his own eyes were now rather wet. "Come, come, Alizon, you must not give way like this. You are tired after your journey and all this excitement. If Aunt Jelly were here, I'm afraid she would prescribe her favourite port wine," he added jestingly. Alizon laughed at this, dried her eyes, and they both went inside to dress for dinner. A very pleasant little meal they had, in the old-fashioned dining-room, with the staid faces of the family portraits staring down at their frivolous descendants. Guy made his wife drink some famous champagne, which was the special pride of the Errington cellar. "I believe in fizz myself," he said sagely, holding his glass up to the light. "Aunt Jelly pins her faith to port, but this is quite as good and not so heavy. Look at all those ancestors of mine frowning down on us, Alizon. No doubt if they could speak they would denounce our conduct as frivolous." "I'm very glad they can't speak then," replied Lady Errington gaily. "Perhaps, however, they appear at midnight. Do they? This place looks like a haunted house." Guy shrugged his shoulders. "No! We haven't got a family ghost. It's a great pity, isn't it? Ghosts generally run in families who have been bad lots, but the Erringtons have always been a steady-going set, so we haven't got even a haunted room, or a gruesome Johnnie with a clanking chain." "I don't know if that's to be regretted," answered his wife, as she arose from the table; "besides, no one believes in ghosts now-a-days." "A good many people do not, but I firmly believe you do." Lady Errington laughed a little nervously. "No! I certainly believe in presentiments, but not in ghosts--there's a great difference between the two. Are you coming with me now?" "Yes! you surely do not want me to sit in solitary state over my wine?" "Certainly not, and as it is such a pleasant evening, let us go outside on the terrace." "You must wrap yourself up, Alizon," said Guy, anxiously, "the air is very keen here." He sent a servant for her shawl, and in a few minutes they were strolling up and down the terrace, arm in arm, not talking much, but enjoying each other's company and the reposeful silence of the hour. It was an exceptional night for November, in England, being still and restful with a moist, warm feeling in the air, and a gentle wind stirring the distant trees. No moon, no stars were visible, as the sky was hidden by heavy masses of clouds which seemed to press down on the weary earth, and a kind of luminous twilight was spread around, which made everything loom strange and spectral in its half-light.