He paused as he emerged from the palace, to let the cool air fan his brow, and to give his thoughts and energies time to collect themselves for the great effort he felt he had to make. Then he walked steadily on to the well-known spot under the apple-tree, where he remembered to have witnessed the interview between Mary Carmichael and her mysterious admirer. Once he had loved that spot so dearly; once he used to linger there for hours together at night, and watch the lights in the apartment inhabited by the Maries; once he was fool enough to feel his heart thrill when her shadow crossed the casement. Well! that was all past and gone. It seemed strange the place could be so changed, and yet the same.

There is no feeling so sad as that with which we revisit our earthly paradise, whatever it may be, after our return has been forbidden, and the angel placed at the gate to warn us off with his flaming sword. Adam and Eve plodded away indeed contentedly into the wilderness, but we, their children, cannot always resign ourselves so philosophically to the inevitable. We plead and pray to be allowed to re-enter, and, perhaps to enhance our punishment, the angel is suffered to give way to our entreaties. Ah! it is the same garden still. Although the trees are lying prostrate, dank, and rotting, on the tufted sward; although the flowers are broken and withered and trampled into the earth; although there are dust and ashes now, and the darkness of desolation, where once the ripe fruit glowed, and the green leaves flickered in the golden floods of noon; yet it is here we first knew paradise; it is from this spot we first caught a glimpse of the dazzling depths of heaven; it was from that spring, choked and tangled and dried up now, we first drank the waters of life. All is ruined and defiled and destroyed, but it is our Garden of Eden still. We had rather sit here with bowed head and rent garments, than walk the fairest realms of earth, in purple and fine linen, lord and ruler of the whole.

Poor ghosts we are indeed, some of us, even while clothed in our fleshly coverings, and prone to wander to and fro about the spot where we buried our treasures, though they have been dug up and taken away long ago. If we could but sever that cord which links us with the past and cut out the moral gangrene, as we amputate the physical limb when mortification has set in, how healthy would be our spiritual being, how cheerfully we could limp, mutilated but painless, to the grave!

Alas! to some natures it is impossible. To such the punishment of Prometheus is no fiction. The chain and the vulture and the rock must be their portion. Nevertheless they are not eternal, and the Garden of Eden itself, glowing in the summer noon, was but a dreary waste compared with that garden which men enter by a strait way and through a narrow gate.

Maxwell looked about him with a heavy heart. He was young yet, and the lesson of life, which all must learn, came painfully to him in the freshness of his youthful hopes.

It takes a long time and a good many reverses to acquire the unenviable stoicism which always expects the worst and is seldom disappointed. He was, however, consoled and supported by the consciousness that he had come to a final determination, unselfish and sincere, which would put an end to his doubts once for all. Whilst the dice are yet unthrown, it is a wondrous moral sedative, that resolution to set our whole future on the cast. When they have come up against us, we are by no means satisfied to abide by the issue, but this is an after consideration, and affects not a whit the vigour of our purpose in the meanwhile.

The watcher had not long to wait. A tall dark figure, cloaked as before, was soon seen gliding to the accustomed spot. Ere he had well reached the apple-tree, Maxwell was already by his side, and had laid his hand upon his shoulder.

The stranger started. Under his cloak a few inches of steel showed themselves out of the scabbard, as his grasp closed upon his sword; but he drove the blade home with a clash, thoroughly reassured at Maxwell’s first sentence.

‘I am your friend,’ exclaimed the latter, hastily but in a cautious voice, ‘at least for the present. You are in danger, and I have come here to warn you.’

There was something so frank in his tones that the other responded immediately. He even lowered the cloak in which his face was muffled and smiled gaily as he replied—

‘I am used to it, my good friend, but equally beholden to you, nevertheless. I would fain know, all the same, who you are that take such interest in my welfare, and wherefore. Nay,’ he added, more abruptly, ‘this is scarcely candid. I know you, Master Maxwell, and I believe you to be a man of honour and a gentleman; but what you can have to communicate to me is indeed a mystery.’

There was light enough to distinguish the speaker’s features. They were those of a singularly handsome man in the prime of life, as his rival did not fail to remark, with a certain defiance and reckless good-humour in their expression. His hair and beard were somewhat gray, but not sufficiently so to destroy the general comeliness of his appearance, and his eyes would have been beautiful even in a woman.

‘This is no time to bandy compliments,’ answered Maxwell, still in the same low tone. ‘You are engaged here in some intrigue; it may or it may not amount to treason. You have been coming and going secretly for months. If you are discovered and arrested, your very life is in danger. Is it not so?’

‘Granted,’ replied the other, smoothing his gray moustache with a provoking air of calmness. ‘There is no game without a hazard. And what then?’

‘You have been watched!’ urged Maxwell, impatiently. ‘You have probably been recognised by those who know you better than I do. Perhaps a few more hours may see you arrested. I tell you, Randolph is on your track, that Southron bloodhound who never over-ran a scent nor opened on a false trail. You had better have the devil for your enemy than the English Ambassador!’

‘I trust devoutly I may prevail against both,’ answered the stranger; then added musingly, ‘You say true about Randolph; his schemes are both wide and deep, whilst his hand is as prompt to execute as his brain is subtle to devise. I pray ye, my friend, when did ye learn I was to be here to-night?’

‘This day at dinner, and from Randolph himself,’ replied Maxwell. ‘The Minister spared not the wine-flask, I promise you; and had it been any other man I might have believed that he told me more than he intended, but not all the vineyards of the Rhine or the Garonne would influence Randolph’s tongue to play false for a syllable to Randolph’s brain. Nay, I will deal frankly with you, fair sir. I offered myself to be the means of unmasking you, in order that I might warn you in time and save you from your fate!’

‘It was most friendly and considerate,’ observed the other, with a laugh not far removed from a sneer. ‘I would fain know, nevertheless, to what happy chance I am indebted for the interest Master Walter Maxwell takes in my preservation. Nay,’ he again broke off abruptly, and added with complete sincerity, ‘this is unworthy of both of us. You are an honest fellow, Master Maxwell, and a loyal gentleman. Roundly now, what is your hidden motive for this proceeding? Come out with it!’

‘My motives are honourable enough,’ replied the other, with some difficulty retaining his composure. ‘I pray you attribute no hidden meaning to what I have to say. Be frank and open with me, whether friend or foe, as I swear I am frank and open with you.’

‘I believe it!’ exclaimed the other, extending him his hand; but Maxwell, without taking it, folded his arms across his heart, and proceeded in the low quiet tones of repressed excitement—

‘I have no right to assume that your presence here in silence and secrecy is for any other than a political object, and yet from my own knowledge I am satisfied that there are further motives of a private nature. If you feel that what I have done for you to-night deserves any return, I claim your confidence in a matter that is to me one of life and death.’

He wiped the drops from his pale face as he spoke, and the stranger, pitying his obvious agitation, motioned to him courteously to proceed.

‘There is a lady of the Court,’ resumed Maxwell, still in the same concentrated voice, ‘who has allowed herself to hold clandestine interviews with you in this spot by night. No man alive shall make me believe that anything but an ardent and sincere affection would tempt that lady so far to commit herself. Mistress Carmichael is above the weaknesses and petty vanities of her sex. I demand of you, on your honour as a gentleman, to clear her conduct in my eyes by avowing that you are her lover.’

The stranger had started violently when he heard mentioned the proper name of the adventurous damsel, whom in truth he was momentarily expecting, but the lower part of his face was again concealed in his cloak, and his whole frame was shaking from some strongly-curbed emotion, while he demanded—

‘By what right do you ask so unwarrantable a question?’

‘By the right of a pure and holy affection,’ answered Maxwell, gravely; ‘by the right of an unselfish love that would even give her up ungrudgingly to a worthy rival!’

‘Hoity-toity, young gentleman!’ exclaimed the stranger, breaking forth into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, all the more violent that he dared not indulge in it above his breath. ‘Thou art not likely to lose aught for lack of asking; thou art one of these wild Iceland falcons, I warrant me, that will fly their pitch, hooded and jessed and all, to strike at every quarry alike. I ought to be angry with thee, man; but I cannot for the life of me. In faith I forgive thee; I forgive thee were it but for the jest’s sake.’

He wiped his eyes while he spoke, and, turning away, stamped upon the ground, as he held his sides once more in a convulsion of mirth.

To Maxwell, with his feelings wrought up to a pitch of Quixotic generosity, all the more exalted that it was an unusual effort of his practical nature, such a display was irritating in the extreme. It is bad enough to hand over the last stiver you have in your pocket, but when the tears in the recipient’s eyes are those of mockery rather than gratitude, it is sufficient to cause an outbreak in the most stoical temperament. The younger man’s brow grew dark with passion, and he laid his hand upon his sword.

‘At least,’ he exclaimed, ‘I will force a confession from you; I came here prepared for either alternative. Had you met me frankly and vowed your devotion to her, I would have been your friend for life; if you mean treacherously, I am your rival to the death.’

The other was still laughing.

‘Pooh! pooh!’ said he, carelessly, ‘you are meddling with what concerns you not. I thank you for your warning, young sir; and, in return, I advise you to give up the championship of every dame who comes but with a muffler into the moonlight; I wish you good night, Master Maxwell; I would be alone.’

He waved his hand rather contemptuously and turned upon his heel; but Maxwell, now boiling with passion, placed himself in front of him, and drew his sword.

‘You part not thus,’ said he; ‘by Saint Andrew, I am henceforth your sworn foe. Draw and take your ground if you be a man!’

The other put aside the weapon with his naked hand, and laughed once more. Maxwell’s face was white with anger, and his eyes flashed fire. Quick as thought he struck his enemy a smart blow across the shoulder with the flat of his sword.

The smile on the stranger’s countenance deepened into a very dangerous expression.

‘Nay,’ said he, in a hissing whisper between his teeth, ‘a wilful man never yet wanted woe; ye have forced me to lug out, youngster, and it shall be to some purpose, I promise ye.’

With that he placed himself on guard with an ominously steady eye, and a hand that, as he bore against his blade, Maxwell quickly discovered to be as skilful as his own.

The wicked steel twined and glittered in the moonlight. As they warmed to their work each man grew more eager and more deadly in the murderous game; thrust and parry, give and take, delicate feint and desperate return, were rapidly and breathlessly exchanged, but at the end of a few passes, though neither had gained any advantage, Maxwell’s youth and activity began to tell upon his elder antagonist. Already the stranger’s brow was covered with sweat, and his breath came quick and short as he traversed here and there, and began perceptibly to give ground. With the true instinct of a swordsman, Maxwell pressed him vigorously when he began to fail, and was in the act of delivering a long-meditated and particularly fatal thrust, when he suddenly found his own blade encumbered with a woollen plaid that had been thrown over it, and himself at the mercy of his antagonist. Looking wildly up, he could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw Mary Carmichael’s pale face frowning angrily upon him, while she clung fondly and imploringly on the stranger’s sword-arm, effectually preventing the latter from availing himself, even were he so minded, of the diversion she had so made.

Stunned and stupefied, with his mouth open and his sword point resting on the ground, Maxwell stood like a man in a dream. Presently his face contracted with an expression of intense pain as he saw Mary once more enveloped in his rival’s embrace, and heard her incoherent expressions of tenderness and alarm.

The stranger was soothing her gently and lovingly as a burst of weeping succeeded the effort she had made for his preservation. After a while he turned to his late antagonist, and said—

‘You are satisfied now, sir, I presume, and have no wish to renew this foolish and untimely brawl.’

But Maxwell never heard him; with pale face and parted lips, his eyes were still riveted on Mary Carmichael. He advanced a step towards her, trembling in every limb.

‘You love him, then?’ said he, quite gently; but his voice was so changed that the stranger started and turned round, thinking some intruder had disturbed them.

‘I do! I do!’ replied the girl hysterically, still hiding her face on the breast to which she clung.

Maxwell smiled—such a dreary, hopeless smile! then sheathing his sword, turned and walked slowly towards the Palace without another word.