"And I too," said Lady Florence; "let me wish you every joy, Ellen."

"You are an excellent keeper of secrets," said the Earl, coming up; "that is the way you keep your promises of silence, Edith."

"I confess my fault; it was done in the fulness of my joy," said the Marchioness; "however, there is no harm done; Florence will keep it quiet, will you not dear?"

"I would not trust Florence's tongue a moment," said her brother.

"I am sure I shall not come to you for a character," retorted the beauty, pouting her pretty lips; "but to show you I can keep a secret, I will not tell anyone, though you deserve nothing less than that I should publish it at the market cross."

By this time the party had once more emerged from the woods, and again saw the green meadow and the old Peel. The sun was nearing its western bourne, and a pleasant breeze had sprung up and cooled the air; the park, as every enclosure is called in Scotland, presented a gay appearance from the light dresses of the ladies. Nearly the whole party were gathered round the great mossy stone, evidently only waiting for the Earl to open the dance on the green. Various opinions were hazarded, and numerous queries put as to what delayed his coming.

"After all," said young Scroop, "he is not the only defaulter, neither of his sisters are here, nor is the Captain, nor is Captain L'Estrange, or Miss Ravensworth; no doubt they have taken a longer ramble than they intended."

"The Captain and L'Estrange seem wonderfully _lies_ of late," said the Marquis; "the Captain has quite forsaken me."

"There is nothing surprising in it," observed Sir Richard; "they are brother officers in the same regiment, have travelled and fought together, and naturally like each other's society."

"What shall we do for a musician?" remarked a fair lady; "it was a great oversight, surely. How shall we dance without music?"

"We must get some lady to hum the tunes, I suppose," said Sir Richard.

"I am sure you will not find one to do so; we have not strong enough voices. I think you should volunteer."

"I am much obliged, I shall do nothing of the kind."

"Mayhap," said Jack Wilton, the master of horse, as he was facetiously called, "this horn will do, gin there be no better. I can wind a tune or two, I warrant."

"There is the Earl himself, we will ask him," said Sir Richard, going to meet him. "We are much flattered, my Lord, I am sure by your great attention to your guests."

"Not more than I am by their waiting so patiently. I thought you would have all been dancing by this time."

"We should have done so, perhaps, had we had wherewith to play dance music--that is a grand oversight."

"It was--but I have remedied it," said the Earl. "See my wisdom! whilst you were abusing me for leaving you by yourselves an hour or so, I was busy rectifying my error. Let me introduce you to my Orpheus, a strolling musician found wandering in the woods, and drawing streams after him by his melodies. Come here, my boy," he said, changing to Italian; "he is a foreigner, and has seen better times, he says; but he will play for the dancers."

The Italian bowed timidly to the ladies and gentlemen, who flocked round him, and answered the questions put by those familiar with his tongue, in a meek voice, as if he feared to offend.

"Gently, do not frighten him," said the Earl; "he is unaccustomed to such scrutiny; see, there is a tear in his eye. Do not be frightened, my boy, they will not harm you; come, what will you have before you play?

Sit down, my lad, sit down on this mossy stone. Andrew, bring something for him--some cake and a gla.s.s of wine."

"Grazzia tanta; but I am not hungry. If the ladies wish, I will play."

"Presently; but you will at least take some wine?"

"No, I thank you, signore; I do not drink wine--wine is for the happy; in Italia I drank wine, I cannot now."

"Hallo, whom have we here? Where the devil did you pick this rascallion Italian up?"

"Oh! John, how can you frighten him so?" said Lady Florence; "he is a poor foreigner, and he is to play for us."

"A poor foreigner! some d----d impostor! and the sooner you send him back to his accursed country the better. I know something of Italians; by the Lord, I was near attempted to be stilettoed by such another villain for nothing. I know I pitched that miscreant into the Arno: he found to his cost the difference of an English soldier and one of his cowardly race. And if you took my advice, Wentworth, you would give this chap a ducking too, and let him begone. I'll stake anything he is after mischief; I don't like his looks, by G--!"

"Nonsense, Captain, he is alone and a stranger here; he is too gentle looking, I am sure, for anything so bad. Look at him, how frightened he looks at your glance," said Lady Arranmore.

"I'd make him look a bit more so, had I my will; but never mind, let him play. Gad's name, what a come down from the old Romans--the haughty conquerors to a rascally musician!"

The look of the two was striking--the bold, martial mien of the Captain, who stood twirling a cane, and staring as if he could annihilate the poor foreigner by his very glance; the half suppliant, half fearful gaze of the other, who stood with folded arms, his lyre on the ground, and his dark eye suffused with tears.

"Let him play! let him play! take him home to the Towers; make him your page. I warrant he will be a sharp one, a trusty messenger to lady's bower, and will not flinch at stabbing with bloodthirsty dagger."

"You wrong him, I am sure," said the Earl; "he is descended from a good family he told me; his parents have fallen victims to the wretched government of his country, and he seeks the pittance his own land denies him, on a foreign strand. What part of Italy come you from, my boy?"

"From Napoli, Milord Inglese."

"Know the Villa Reale?"

"Si, signore, on the summit of the olive grove--it looks to Vesuvius."

"Right; there is truth on his face--he tells me facts I am sure."

"Do you believe him?" said the Captain, walking away.

"Now we are all prepared," said the Earl; "do you know the new dance--the waltz?"

"Si, signore."

Seating himself on the mossy stone, he commenced tuning his instrument, and first played a wild Italian air, in which fire and melancholy were strangely mingled. The applause of the company seemed to reinspirit him, and, dashing away a tear from his eye, he struck up the waltz measure.

The Earl, taking Ellen's hand, stepped forth and led the dance; then, each selecting his partner, the rest followed--all save two, the Captain and L'Estrange, who stood beneath the darkening shadow of the fir-trees, and looked on; the former with a scornful smile, as if he despised all who joined in the dance; the latter with a sad expression of countenance, as if he would too willingly have mingled in the happy throng, could he have danced with the lady of his love.

"I'll bet my best hunter against your riding whip," said the Captain, "that the deed is done."

"What deed is done?"

"Fool! what could it be but one? to be plain, I'll stake my existence my brother has proposed for Ellen's hand--and what is more, I will stake my life she has accepted him," he observed, as the two lovers waltzed past.

"What should make you suppose so?" said the other, turning very pale.

"Her looks, idiot, her looks; I can read faces well! I was a fool not to see through the Earl's subtilty before. This picnic forsooth! a mere excuse for getting her away to do so--by Heaven! a cunning dodge--but I am a sleuth-hound that can track him out!"

"Good Heavens, and what shall we do?"

"What, indeed, would you do without me?" answered the Captain; "fear not--I am not empty of resources yet--we must change the plot a bit. I must speak to yonder Italian. But first I will make myself sure; I said I could read faces; see you my sister Florence? I see by her face she has a secret, and I will ferret it out by G--; were it Edith I had harder work!"

Just then Lady Florence, with Johnny for her partner, danced past them; she looked lovely as she whirled by, her fair hair floating in the breeze--her face flushed with the exertion--and her blue eyes sparkling with exuberance of joy.

"Promise you won't tell," said the fair girl to Johnny, "but Ellen is to be mistress of all these grounds. What do you think, Johnny, of having a sister a countess? But here comes John, you must find another partner; I promised to dance with him. Mind you don't tell any one, Johnny, mind your promise!"