"I told you not to come," said Caroline, somewhat bitterly, to her friend. She seemed truly perturbed: to be intruded on Robert thus, against her will and his expectation, and when he evidently would rather not be delayed, keenly annoyed her. It did not annoy Miss Keeldar in the least: she stepped forward and faced her tenant, barring his way:—
"You omitted to bid us good-bye," she said.
"Omitted to bid you good-bye! Where did you come from? Are you fairies? I left two like you, one in purple and one in white, standing at the top of a bank, four fields off, but a minute ago."
"You left us there and find us here. We have been watching you; and shall watch you still: you must be questioned one day, but not now: at present, all you have to do is to say good-night, and then pass."
Moore glanced from one to the other, without unbending his aspect. "Days of fête have their privileges, and so have days of hazard," observed he, gravely.
"Come—don't moralize: say good-night, and pass," urged Shirley.
"Must I say good-night to you, Miss Keeldar?"
"Yes, and to Caroline, likewise. It is nothing new, I hope: you have bid us both good-night before."
He took her hand, held it in one of his, and covered it with the other: he looked down at her
