"About a tall woman in a quaint black dress, with yellow hair, and a sweet, sweet smile, and a soft, low, delicious voice! I am in love with her."
"It's better to see her than to dream about her," I said. "Get up and dress, and we shall go down to dinner and meet her."
"Dinner—dinner" And he gradually opened his eyes again. "Yes, upon my word, I shall dine!"
"Oh, you are all right!" I said, as he rose to his feet. "You will live to bury Mr. Simmons." He told me that he had spent the hours of my absence with Miss Searle—they had strolled together over the park and through the gardens and green-houses. "You must be very intimate," I said, smiling.
"She is intimate with me," he answered. "Heaven knows what rigmarole I have treated her to!" They had parted an hour ago; since when, he believed, her brother had arrived.
The slow-fading twilight still abode in the great drawing-room as we entered it. The housekeeper had told us that this apartment was rarely used, there being others, smaller and more convenient, for the same needs. It seemed now, however, to be occupied in my comrade's honour. At the further end of it, rising to the roof, like a royal tomb in a cathedral, was a great chimney-piece of chiselled white marble, yellowed by time, in which a light fire was crackling. Before the fire stood a small, short man, with his hands behind him; near him was Miss Searle, so transformed by her dress that at first I scarcely knew her. There was in our
