The sky above was brilliant with the gleam of a thousand stars, the moon was shining behind some silvery clouds, the great masses of foliage in the park were just stirred with the whisper of the night, and sweetest odors came from heliotrope and mignonnette; the brooding silence of the summer night lay over the land.
Philippa sat down, and Lord Arleigh stood by her side.
The moonlight falling on her beautiful face softened it into wondrous loveliness--it was pale, refined, with depths of passion in the dark eyes, and tender, tremulous smiles on the scarlet lips.

She wore some material of white and gold.

A thin scarf was thrown carelessly over her white shoulders.

When the wind stirred it blew the scarf against her face.
She might have been the very goddess of love, she looked so fair out in the starlight.

If there had been one particle of love in Lord Arleigh's heart, that hour and scene must have called it into life.