"I think it's all very ridiculous!" said Anthea.

"Why then--suppose you play for me, that same, plaintive piece you were playing as I came in,--something of Grieg's I think it was,--will you, Miss Anthea?"

She was on the point of refusing, then, as if moved by some capricious whim, she crossed to the piano, and dashed into the riotous music of a Polish Dance. As the wild notes leapt beneath her quick, brown fingers, Bellew, seated near-by, kept his eyes upon the great, red rose in her hair, that nodded slyly at him with her every movement. And surely, in all the world, there had never bloomed a more tantalizing, more wantonly provoking rose than this! Wherefore Bellew, very wisely, turned his eyes from its glowing temptation. Doubtless observing which, the rose, in evident desperation, nodded, and swayed, until, it had fairly nodded itself from its sweet resting-place, and, falling to the floor, lay within Bellew's reach. Whereupon, he promptly stooped, and picked it up, and,--even as, with a last, crashing chord, Anthea ceased playing, and turned, in that same moment he dropped it deftly into his coat pocket.

"Oh! by the way, Mr. Bellew," she said, speaking as if the idea had but just entered her mind, "what do you intend to do about--all your furniture?"

"Do about it?" he repeated, settling the rose carefully in a corner of his pocket where it would not be crushed by his pipe.

"I mean--where would you like it--stored until you can send, and have it--taken away?"

"Well,--I--er--rather thought of keeping it--where it was if you didn't mind."

"I'm afraid that will be--impossible, Mr. Bellew."

"Why then the barn will be an excellent place for it, I don't suppose the rats and mice will do it any real harm, and as for the damp, and the dust--"

"Oh! you know what I mean!" exclaimed Anthea, beginning to tap the floor impatiently with her foot. "Of course we can't go on using the things now that they are your property, it--wouldn't be--right."

"Very well," he nodded, his fingers questing anxiously after the rose again, "I'll get Adam to help me to shift it all into the barn, to-morrow morning."

"Will you please be serious, Mr. Bellew!"

"As an owl!" he nodded.

"Why then--of course you will be leaving Dapplemere soon, and I should like to know exactly when, so that I can--make the necessary arrangements."

"But you see, I am not leaving Dapplemere soon or even thinking of it."

"Not?" she repeated, glancing up at him in swift surprise.

"Not until--you bid me."

"I?"

"You!"

"But I--I understood that you--intend to--settle down?"

"Certainly!" nodded Bellew, transferring his pipe to another pocket altogether, lest it should damage the rose's tender petals. "To settle down has lately become the--er--ambition of my life."

"Then pray," said Anthea, taking up a sheet of music, and beginning to study it with attentive eyes, "be so good as to tell me--what you mean."

"That necessarily brings us back to the moon again," answered Bellew.

"The moon?"

"The moon!"

"But what in the world has the moon to do with your furniture?" she demanded, her foot beginning to tap again.

"Everything!--I bought that furniture with--er--with one eye on the moon, as it were,--consequently the furniture, the moon, and I, are bound indissolubly together."

"You are pleased to talk in riddles, to-night, and really, Mr. Bellew, I have no time to waste over them, so, if you will excuse me--"

"Thank you for playing to me," he said, as he held the door open for her.

"I played because I--I felt like it, Mr. Bellew."

"Nevertheless, I thank you."

"When you make up your mind about--the furniture,--please let me know."

"When the moon is at the full, yes."

"Can it be possible that you are still harping on the wild words of poor old Nannie?" she exclaimed, and once more, she curled her lip at him.

"Nannie is very old, I'll admit," he nodded, "but surely you remember that we proved her right in one particular,--I mean about the Tiger Mark, you know."

Now, when he said this, for no apparent reason, the eyes that had hitherto been looking into his, proud and scornful,--wavered, and were hidden under their long, thick lashes; the colour flamed in her cheeks, and, without another word, she was gone.

CHAPTER XVIII

_How the Sergeant went upon his guard_

The Arcadians, one and all, generally follow that excellent maxim which runs:

"Early to bed, and early to rise Makes a man healthy, and wealthy, and wise."

Healthy they are, beyond a doubt, and, in their quaint, simple fashion, profoundly wise. If they are not extraordinarily wealthy, yet are they generally blessed with contented minds which, after all, is better than money, and far more to be desired than fine gold.

Now whether their general health, happiness, and wisdom is to be attributed altogether to their early to bed proclivities, is perhaps a moot question. Howbeit, to-night, long after these weary Arcadians had forgotten their various cares, and troubles in the blessed oblivion of sleep, (for even Arcadia has its troubles) Bellew sat beneath the shade of "King Arthur" alone with his thoughts.

Presently, however, he was surprised to hear the house-door open, and close very softly, and to behold--not the object of his meditations, but Miss Priscilla coming towards him.

As she caught sight of him in the shadow of the tree, she stopped and stood leaning upon her stick as though she were rather disconcerted.

"Aunt Priscilla!" said he, rising.

"Oh!--it's you?" she exclaimed, just as though she hadn't known it all along. "Dear me! Mr. Bellew,--how lonely you look, and dreadfully thoughtful,--good gracious!" and she glanced up at him with her quick, girlish smile. "I suppose you are wondering what I am doing out here at this unhallowed time of night--it must be nearly eleven o'clock. Oh dear me!--yes you are!--Well, sit down, and I'll tell you. Let us sit here,--in the darkest corner,--there. Dear heart!--how bright the moon is to be sure." So saying, Miss Priscilla ensconced herself at the very end of the rustic bench, where the deepest shadow lay.

"Well, Mr. Bellew," she began, "as you know, to-day is my birthday. As to my age, I am--let us say,--just turned twenty-one and, being young, and foolish, Mr. Bellew, I have come out here to watch another very foolish person,--a ridiculous, old Sergeant of Hussars, who will come marching along, very soon, to mount guard in full regimentals, Mr.

Bellew,--with his busby on his head, with his braided tunic and dolman, and his great big boots, and with his spurs jingling, and his sabre bright under the moon."

"So then--you know he comes?"