her as she sat, gave her his hand, and asked her how she was. The light from the window did not fall upon Miss Helstone, her back was turned towards it: a quiet though rather low reply, a still demeanour, and the friendly protection of early twilight, kept out of view each traitorous symptom. None could affirm that she had trembled or blushed, that her heart had quaked, or her nerves thrilled: none could prove emotion: a greeting showing less effusion was never interchanged. Moore took the empty chair near her, opposite Miss Keeldar. He had placed himself well: his neighbour, screened by the very closeness of his vicinage from his scrutiny, and sheltered further by the dusk which deepened each moment, soon regained, not merely seeming, but real mastery of the feelings which had started into insurrection at the first announcement of his name.
He addressed his conversation to Miss Keeldar.
"I went to the barracks," he said, "and had an interview with Colonel Ryde: he approved my plans, and promised the aid I wanted: indeed, he offered a more numerous force than I require—half a dozen will suffice. I don't intend to be swamped by red-coats: they are needed for appearance rather than anything else; my main reliance is on my own civilians."
"And on their captain," interposed Shirley.
"What, Captain Keeldar?" inquired Moore, slightly smiling, and not lifting his eyes: the tone of
