Friends and acquaintances crowded around her and it was many minutes before she found her way to her mother's chair where Captain Ernscliffe still stood with his heart beating so fast that he thought she must have heard it. It seemed to him as if everyone in the room must read in his face the secret of his love for Queenie Lyle who had rejected him a year ago with all the thoughtless lightness of girlhood. But no, his face was perfectly calm to all appearance, and as the girl gave one timid, upward glance at him she thought he had forgotten or outlived the pain of his rejection. "I scarcely dared hope that you would return home as you went," he said after the first formal greeting. "I feared some French count or English lord would claim you as his own." She blushed, and her eyes fell until the dark lashes rested on her burning cheeks. "I was not so fortunate as to claim the admiration of any of the nobility," she answered carelessly. "Georgie outshone us all. She is to be married to an English lord in a month from now." "I am very glad it is not you who are to be married to him," he answered laughing, but with an undertone of sincerity. Other friends claimed her for awhile, but by-and-bye his restless glance found her out sitting by a window alone for the moment, and looking tired and a little sad. "You are not strong enough to stand the heat of the rooms," he said kindly. "Come out in the garden and walk in the moonlight with me." She took his arm and they went out in the garden. It was summer, and the flowers were blooming in profuse sweetness. The air was heavy with the odor of the roses and honeysuckle. They sat down upon a rustic seat with the full flood of brilliant moonlight falling on Queenie's uncovered head and lovely white face. "You have grown more beautiful than ever, Queenie," said her companion admiringly. She did not answer, but he fancied that he heard a faint, quickly smothered sigh. Impulsively he took into his own the small hand lying cold and listless in her lap. "It has been a year since I saw you, Queenie," he exclaimed, "but I find the old love rising in my heart as passionately as if we had only parted yesterday. Dearest, have you ever repented of your cruelty to me?" She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of a fathomless sadness and vague regret. "Ah! yes," she said, and her voice was almost a wail of pain. "I have repented, Captain Ernscliffe, I have been sorry often and often for my blind mistake!" He held out his arms, drawing he scarcely knew what hope from her agitated words. "Queenie, come to me," he cried. "Let atonement follow repentance." But she drew back, trembling and frightened. "I--oh, I did not mean that," she said, "I cannot--_it is too late!_"