It is to take place to-night. “I doubted my luck, at least. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. It was Blueskin. "I thought we were going to have some music," she said. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. Kneebone, then, sat down to await the arrival of his expected guest. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights.
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