"The day is done, and the darkness falls from the wings of night." The dusk is slowly creeping up over all the land, the is coming on apace. As the day was, so is the eve, sad and mournful, with sounds of rain and sobbings of swift winds as they rush through the barren in the . The harbor bar is moaning many miles away, yet its voice is borne by rude Boreas up from the bay to the walls of the stately Towers, that neither rock nor shiver before the charges of this violent son of "imperial Æolus."  
There is a ghostly tapping (as of some departed spirit who would fain enter once again into the old halls so long forgotten) against the window . Doubtless it is some waving branch flung hither and by the cruel tempest that rages without. Shadows come and go; and thoughts oppress the breast:—
 
"Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the that lies in
In remembrance of a ."
"What a wretched evening!" says Violet, with a little shiver. "Geoffrey, draw the curtains closer."
 
"A fit ending to a day," says Lady Rodney, gloomily.
 
"Night has always the effect of making bad look worse," says Doatie with a sad attempt at cheerfulness. "Never mind; morning will soon be here again."
 
"But why should night produce ?" says Nicholas, dreamily. "It is but a reflection of the greater light, after all. What does Richter call it? 'The great shadow and profile of day.' It is our own fancies that make us it."
 
"Nevertheless, close the curtains, Geoffrey, and ask Lady Rodney if she would not like tea now," says Violet, sotto voce.
 
Somebody the fire, until a light streams through the room. The huge logs are good-naturedly inclined, and burst their great sides in an endeavor to promote more thought.
 
"As things are so unsettled, Nicholas, perhaps we had better put off our dance," says Lady Rodney, presently. "It may only worry you, and us all."
 
"No. It will not worry me. Let us have our dance by all means," says Nicholas, recklessly. "Why should we cave in, in such hot haste? It will give us all something to think about. Why not get up ? Our last were rather a success. And to represent Nero , whilst Rome was on fire, would be a very appropriate one for the present occasion."
 
He laughs a little as he says this, but there is no mirth in his laugh.
 
"Nicholas, come here," says Doatie, anxiously, from out the shadow in which she is sitting, somewhat away from the rest. And Nicholas, going to her finds comfort and grows calm again beneath the touch of the slim little fingers she slips into his beneath the cover of the friendly darkness, "I don't see why we shouldn't launch out into reckless extravagance now our time threatens to be so short," says , . "Let's us entertain our neighbors right royally before the end comes. Why not wind up like the pantomimes, with showers of gold and rockets and the gladsome noise of ye ?"
 
"What nonsense some people are capable of talking!" says Violet, with a little .
 
"Well, why not?" says Captain Rodney, undaunted by this small snub. "It is far more difficult to talk than sense. Any fellow can do that. If I were to tell you that Nolly is sound asleep, and that if he lurches even half a degree more to the right he will presently be lost to sight among the glowing embers" (Nolly rouses himself with a start), "you would probably tell me I was a very silly fellow to waste breath over such a palpable fact, but it would be sense nevertheless. I hope I haven't disturbed you, Nolly? On such a night as this a severe would perhaps be a thing to be desired."
 
"Thanks. I'll put it off for a night or two," says Nolly, sleepily.
 
"Besides, I don't believe I was talking nonsense," goes on Jack in an tone. "My last speech had very little in it. I feel the time is fast approaching when we sha'n't have money even to meet our tailors' bills."
 
"'In the midst of life we are in debt,'" says Nolly, solemnly. Which is the best thing he could have said, as it makes them all laugh in spite of their misfortunes.
 
"Nolly is waking up. I am afraid we sha'n't have that da fe, after all," says Jack in a tone of rich disappointment. "I feel as if we are going to be done out of a good thing."
 
"What a day we're avin'," says Mr. Darling, to notice this remark. "It's been pouring since early dawn. I feel right down cheap,—very nearly as as when last night Nicholas stuck me down to dance with the Æsthetic."
 
"Lady Lilias Eaton, you mean?" asks Lady Rodney. "That reminds me we are bound to go over there to-morrow. At least, some of us."
 
"Mona must go," says Nicholas, quickly. "Lady Lilias made a point of it. You will go, Mona?"
 
"I should very much like to go," says Mona, gently, and with some eagerness. She has been sitting very quietly with her hands before her, hardly hearing what is passing around her,—lost, buried in thought.
 
"Poor infant! It is her first essay," says Nolly, pitifully.
 
"Wait till to-morrow evening, and see if you will feel as you do now. Your cheerful in this matter is much to be admired. And Nicholas should be grateful But I think you will find one dose of Lady Lilias and her ancient Briton sufficient for your lifetime."
 
"You used to be tremendous friends there at one time," says Geoffrey; "never out of the house."
 
"I used to stay there occasionally when old Lord Daintree was alive, if you mean that," says Nolly, . "As far as I can , I was always shipped there when naughty, or troublesome, or in the way at home; and as a rule I was always in the way. There is a connection between the Eatons and my mother, and Anadale saw a good deal of me off and on during the holidays. It was a sort of rod in , or dark closet, that used to be held over my head when in disgrace."
 
"Lilias must have been quite a child then," says Lady Rodney.
 
"She was never a child: she was born quite grown up. But the ancient Britons had not come into favor at that time: so she was a degree more tolerable. Bless me," says Mr. Darling, with sudden , "what times I put in there. The rooms were ghastly enough to freeze the blood in one's , and no candles would light 'em. The beds were all four-posters, with heavy curtains round them, so high that one had to get a small ladder to mount into bed. I remember one time—it was during harvest, and the mowers were about—I suggested to Lord Daintree he should get the men in to down the beds; but no one took any notice of my proposal, so it fell to the ground. I was frightened to death, and indeed was more in of the four-posters than of the old man, who wasn't perhaps half bad."
 
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