Fraeulein Mueller was charmed at hearing some of her favourite poems, asking now for this little bit, and anon for another, and expatiating upon the merits of German poets in general, and Heine in particular, in the pauses of the lecture.

She was quite carried away by her delight in the poet, and was so entirely uplifted to the ideal world that, when a footman came with a message from Lady Maulevrier requesting her presence, she tripped gaily off at once, without a thought of danger in leaving those two together on the lawn.

She had been a faithful watch-dog up to this point; but she was now lulled into a false sense of security by the idea that the time of peril was all but ended.
So she left them; but could she have looked hack two minutes afterwards she would have perceived the unwisdom of that act.
No sooner had the Fraeulein turned the corner of the shrubbery than Hammond laid aside his book and drew nearer Lesbia, who sat looking downward, with her eyes upon the delicate piece of fancy work which had occupied her fingers all the morning.
'Lesbia, this is my last day at Fellside, and you and I may never have a minute alone together again while I am here.

Will you come for a little walk with me on the Fell?
There is something I must say to you before I go.' Lesbia's delicate cheek grew a shade more pale.

Instinct told her what was coming, though never mortal man had spoken to her of love.