Good-night, Lady Peters." But that most discreet of _chaperons_ had already re-entered the drawing-room--it was no part of her business to be present when the two friends said good-night.
"Good-night, Philippa," he said, in a low, gentle voice, bending over her.
The wind stirred her perfumed hair until it touched his cheek, the leaves of the crimson roses fell in a shower around her.

She raised her beautiful pale face to his--the unspeakable love, the yearning sorrow on it, moved him greatly.

He bent down and touched her brow with his lips.
"Good-night, Philippa, my sister--my friend," he said.
Even by the faint starlight he saw a change pass over her face.
"Good-night," she responded.

"I have more to say to you, but Lady Peters will be horrified if you remain any longer.

You will call to-morrow, and then I can finish my conversation ?" "I will come," he replied, gravely.
He waited a moment to see if she would pass into the drawing-room before him, but she turned away and leaned her arms on the stone balustrade.
It was nearly half an hour afterward when Lady Peters once more drew aside the hangings.
"Philippa," she said, gently, "you will take cold out there." She wondered why the girl paused some few minutes before answering; then Miss L'Estrange said, in a low, calm voice: "Do not wait for me, Lady Peters; I am thinking and do not wish to be interrupted." But Lady Peters did not seem quite satisfied.
"I do not like to leave you sitting there," she said, "the servants will think it strange." "Their thoughts do not concern me," she returned, haughtily.
"Good-night, Lady Peters; do not interrupt me again, if you please." And the good-tempered _chaperon_ went away, thinking to herself that perhaps she had done wrong in interrupting the _tete-a-tete_.
"Still I did it for the best," she said to herself; "and servants will talk." Philippa L'Estrange did not move.