When the carriage came up the party was quite loath to break up.
Coombe Lodge was within such an easy drive, and the Park so near, that, as Mr. Dodson said, they were like a family party.
It was a lovely moonlight night, and Leicester proposed that, if they insisted upon going, they should send the carriages on at a slow pace and walk themselves part of the way.
They started and sauntered on, the moonlight pouring down upon them its soft, placid, fitful light, and bathing sea and land, cliff and hollow, in a silver stream.
The party soon broke up into groups. Fitz and Leicester with Violet, Bertie and Ethel with Mrs. Mildmay, and the captain and Mr. and Mrs. Dodson.
It was certainly a tempting night, and the young people seemed to quietly revel in it. Twice the Lackland carriage was sent on; but at last Ethel decided that they had better get in, and, much to Bertie's inward grief, Fitz consented.
"The day after to-morrow, then," he said, as he closed the carriage door. "You will not forget that as you forgot me."
"No," said Ethel laughing, but with a slight flush, "I will not forget, and I hope we shall all have a nice ride. Good-night."
Bertie bent over her hand and held it until he was in danger of the wheels. Then Leicester declared that he would go on as far as the Park and return with a cigar.
"You may light it now," said Violet, "if you like. I do not mind."
By some means the captain attracted Bertie's attention as they neared the Park, and so, calling him away, left Leicester and Violet alone.
They did not seem to notice it, however, and stopped to look at the ruins of the old abbey clinging to the new house.
"Beautiful!" said Leicester. "Bertie has been in ecstasies over this; he is an author and an artist, you know."
"I like him," said Violet, in her decisive way.
"So do I," said Leicester. "He is my best friend. My rooms and his in the Temple adjoin."
"Do they?" said Violet. "How strange it sounds: 'In the Temple.' What do you do in chambers?"
"He works hard. I--smoke, drink, read, think, and watch him working."
"It must be very nice," she said, softly. "Look!" she said, suddenly; "that is the ghost's window."
"That long oriel window?" said Leicester. "You promised to tell me about your pet ghost."