terrace unoccupied, and he arranged two wicker easy-chairs, where they might be just out of the way of the promenaders. He asked a footman to bring the ices, and then seated himself beside Patty.
“Is it not beautiful,” he said, “the rose garden in the moonlight? One can almost fancy the roses opening beneath the moon’s light as in daytime by the sun’s warm rays.”
“Yes,” said Patty, falling in with his fanciful mood, “and I think, perhaps, at night, the white roses and the pale yellow ones bloom. Then at daybreak, the pink or blush roses open, and at midday the deep red ones.”
“You have the mind of a poet, Miss Fairfield. Where do you get those graceful conceits?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Patty, carelessly; “I think they are the result of this beautiful moonlight night, and these picturesque surroundings.”
“Yes, I am sure that is true. You have a soul that responds to all beauty in art or nature. Let us take a short turn in the rose garden, and get a view of this noble old house with the moonlight full upon it.”
“But I want my ice cream,” objected Patty, who still had her schoolgirl appetite.
“We’ll stay but a moment, and we’ll return to find it awaiting us,” gently insisted Lord Ruthven, and Patty amiably went down the terrace steps and along the garden path with him.
Near a clump of cedars, only a short distance away, they turned to look at the beautiful old house. Herenden Hall was always a splendid picture, but especially at night, backgrounded by a gray sky full of racing clouds, and touched at every gable by the silver moonlight, it was enchanting.
“Oh,” said Patty, drawing a sigh, “it is the most wonderful effect I ever saw. See that great, quiet roof sloping darkly away, and beneath, the gay lights of the terrace, and the laughter of happy people.”
“It is a beautiful picture,” said Lord Ruthven, looking steadily at Patty, “but not so beautiful as another one I see. A lovely face framed in soft, shining curls, against a background of dark cedar trees.”
His tone, even more than his words, alarmed Patty. She was not used to such speeches as this, and she said, gravely: “Take me back to the house, please, Lord Ruthven.”
“Not just yet,” pleaded the nobleman. “Dear Miss Fairfield, listen to me a moment. Let me tell you something. Let me justify myself. I oughtn’t to talk to you like this, I know—but the fact is—oh, the fact is you’ve completely bowled me over.”
“What?” said Patty, not at all comprehending his meaning.
“Yes; I’m done for—and at first sight! And by an American! But it’s a fact. I adore you, Miss Fairfield—I’m so desperately in love with you that I can’t down it. Oh, I know I oughtn’t to be talking to you like this. I ought to see your father, and all that. And I will, as soon as I can, but—oh, I say, Patty, tell me you like me a little!”
It suddenly dawned on Patty that she was having a proposal! And from an English Earl! And all on account of her grown-up gown! The absurdity of it impressed her far more than the romantic side of it, and though a little frightened, she couldn’t help smiling at the Earl’s tragic tones.
“Nonsense, Lord Ruthven,” she said, though her cheeks were pink; “don’t talk like that. Please cut me that lovely cluster of roses, and then take me back to Lady Hamilton.”
The Earl drew a penknife from his pocket, and cut the flowers she asked for. Then he stood, trimming off the thorns, and looking down at her.
Patty had never looked so winsome. Her garb made her seem a grown woman, and yet the situation alarmed her, and her perplexed face was that of a troubled child.
“Tell me,” he repeated, “that you like me a little.”
“Of course I like you a little,” returned Patty, in a matter-of-fact voice. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“That’s something,” said the Earl, in a tone of satisfaction, “and now will you accept these flowers as a gift from me? As, for the moment, I’ve nothing else to offer.”
Patty took the flowers in both hands, but Lord Ruthven still held them, too, saying: “And will you let them mean——?”
“No,” cried Patty, “they don’t mean anything—not anything at all!”
Lord Ruthven clasped Patty’s two hands, roses and all, in his own.
“They do,” he said quietly; “they mean I love you. Do you understand?”
He looked straight into the troubled, beseeching eyes that met his own.
“Please let me go, Lord Ruthven—please!” said Patty, her hands trembling in his own.
“You may go, if you will first call me by some less formal name. Patty, dearest, say Sylvester—just once!”
This desperate request was too much for Patty’s sense of humour.
“Why can’t I say it twice?” she said in a low tone, but her voice was shaking with laughter.
“You little witch!” exclaimed the Earl, and his clasp tightened on her hands. “Now you shan’t go until you have said it twice!”
“Sylvester—Sylvester—there!” said Patty, her eyes twinkling with fun, and her lips on the verge of laughter. Then, gently disengaging her hands from his, she gathered up her long white train, and prepared to run away.
The Earl laid a detaining hand on her arm. “Miss Fairfield,” he said, “Patty, I won’t keep you now, but to-morrow you’ll give me an opportunity, won’t you? to tell you——”
“Wait till to-morrow, my lord,” said Patty, really laughing now. “You will probably have changed your mind.”
“How little you know me!” he cried, reproachfully, and then they had reached the terrace, and joined the others.
Soon after the guests all retired to their own rooms, and the moonlight on Herenden Hall saw no more the gay scene on the terrace.
Patty, passing through her own room, discovered that her two trunks had arrived and had been unpacked. She went straight on and tapped at Lady Hamilton’s door. “Get me out of this gown, please, Marie; I’ve had quite enough of being a grown-up young woman!”
“What’s the matter, Patty?” said Lady Kitty, looking round. “Didn’t you have a good time this evening?”
“The time of my life!” declared Patty, dropping into her own graphic speech, as she emerged from the heap of lace and silk. “I’ll see you later, Kitty,” and without further word she returned to her own room.
And later, when Marie had been dismissed, Patty crept back to Lady Hamilton, a very different Patty, indeed. Her hair fell in two long braids, with curly tails; a dainty dressing-gown enveloped her slight figure; and on her bare feet were heelless satin slippers. She found Lady Kitty in an armchair before the wood fire, awaiting her.
Patty threw a big, fat sofa pillow at her friend’s feet, and settled herself cosily upon it.
“Well, girlie,” said Lady Hamilton, “come to the story at once. What happened to you as a grown-up?”
“What usually happens to grown-ups, I suppose,” said Patty, demurely; “the Earl of Ruthven proposed to me.”
“What!” cried Lady Hamilton, starting up, and quite upsetting Patty from her cushion.
“Yes, he did,” went on Patty, placidly; “shall I accept him?”
“Patty, you naughty child, tell me all about it at once! Oh, what shall I say to your father and mother?”
Patty grinned. “Yes, it was all your fault, Kitty. If I hadn’t worn your