Had they been coming back with bad news this might have been rather a
melancholy sight, perhaps--the long, wide strath with the wan shades of
twilight stealing over the meadows and the woods and the winding river;
but now (to Lionel at least) it was nothing but beautiful. If the glen
itself looked ghostly and lifeless and colorless, there were warmer hues
overhead; for a pale salmon-flush still suffused the sky; and where that
half-crimson glow, just over the dark, heather-stained hill, faded into
an exquisite transparent lilac, there hung a full moon--a moon of the
lightest and clearest gold, with its mysterious continents appearing as
faint gray films. The prevailing peace seemed to grow more profound with
the coming of the night. But this was not a night to be feared--this was
a night to be welcomed--a night with that fair golden moon hanging high
in the heavens, the mistress and guardian of the silent vale.
When Lionel rode up to the door of the lodge, he found all the gentlemen
of the house congregated there and dressed for dinner. Sir Hugh held up
his hand.
"No, not one word!" he cried. "Not necessary. I can always tell. It is
written in every line of your face.
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