"Why do you wear such things?" said he,
and forgot the answer as he looked into her face.
Gracious me! I would not be so dangerously
pretty for the world.

"Would you like to walk, Miss Ross?" said
Robert.

"Very much," answered she, and winding a
sort of gossamer scarf over her head, by way of
bonnet, she sprang lightly out and joined us.

Upon which Robert said something in German,
for he is nearly as clever as Erasmus in
languages. She laughingly replied.

Now, to speak in any other tongue than his
own, gives Erasmus that sort of pleasure that
antiquaries have at old discoveries, geologists of
new strata, botanists of some rare plant. He
forgot the vision of loveliness in white muslin and
lace, more like his mother's china shepherdess
than ever, and turned eagerly to Miss Ross.
Never had he met so perfect a German scholar.
We might have been walking up to the Hall now,
if Robert had not taken him by the arm, and
kept him resolutely going forward all the time.

Of course the tea-party at the Hall was something
quite out of the common. Moreover,
either all the imperious servants were gone, or
they had become amiable and happy, like their
master, for they seemed to welcome us all with
the greatest pleasure, and I might have asked
for their lady's ivory-handled brush and tortoise-shell
comb to do my hair, and they would have
thought it no more than my due.

Tea was served in the rose-garden. Strawberries
and cream were to be found in little out-of-the-way
corners. Ices and champagne-cup
under the cedar and mulberry trees.

Altogether, I wanted to kiss Pet every five
minutes, by way of telling her how delightful
everything was, and only Sarah Jane running
to tell me that "the divine creature" was looking
unutterably, and how fortunate I was to
have the prospect of such an "exquisite thing"
for a sister-in-law, for never was such devotion
—ah, ah—now and then brought me back
to my horrid sensations.

I went about nine o'clock near the place
where they were sitting.

"Would you?" I heard her say, in her most
insinuating voice, and for answer she had a peal
of the loudest thunder I ever heard.

Such a scurry, such a shrieking, screaming,
calling. We ran into the house for our lives —
Erasmus was half carrying that person, who
seemed to be fainting. For the matter of that,
my darling Pet was no better; she was sheltering
in the great squire's arms, as if he could
ward off for her even the lightning.

But a thunderstorm was to Erasmus a delightful
plaything. No sooner had he deposited
Mrs. Arundel on the sofa, than he proceeded
out on to the balcony to watch the storm. The
rain had not begun.

He began to explain the theory of storms, to
point out the difference between harmless and
hurtful lightning. Among the few that had
sufficient strength of mind to listen to him, was
Miss Ross.

As she leant her head against the maroon-coloured
velvet curtain of the window, it seemed
to me as if her hair was on fire. I exclaimed,
and ran to her.

"No," she answered, smiling; "have no fear,
my hair is very electric, and on the slightest
friction in a thunderstorm will sparkle."

Erasmus became dumb with delight. He
moved the heavy curtain to bring out the
sparks, he looked longingly, unutterably. I
felt that he would have given worlds to uncoil
those rich plaits of hair, and lecture and expound
upon their wonderful electric property.

"Would you?" began I, of all people.
"Could you?" going on unblushingly. " Might
I?" I really was ashamed of myself, and promised
myself never again to blame others for
using sentences I might find myself obliged to
use in spite of myself. " May I just undo one
plait for Erasmus to see the effect?"

"Pray undo it all; for, do not think me vain,
I have been told it is curious to watch the
effect in the dark, when it is combed out."

"Will it be dangerous while the lightning is
going on?"

"Yes," exclaimed Erasmus; " wait until the
storm is over."

"Meanwhile," she whispered to me, " begin
to unplait, it is such an endless business."

And as Robert said to me, when, the storm
over, the wonderful hair unplaited, "What a
sight it was!" Not that she showed it out of
vanity, for she never uncoiled it all until we
were quite in the dark. She shook it out for a
moment, when I was with her alone, and showed
me how I was to comb it, and what a glory it
was. Long pale golden threads of true Scottish
hair. It was the richest garment I ever saw.
As I combed it out, and it sparkled and crackled,
Erasmus could not contain himself. How am
I to describe all his antics? Even Pet left the refuge
of the squire's arms, and came all wondering
to see. And Robert (now I know Robert did it
on purpose, though he will say he did not, which
is so wrong of him), Robert suddenly brought
in a great lamp, and then everybody saw this
wonderful hair in its full luxuriance.

Miss Ross blushed so prettily, while she
deftly divided, twisted, and coiled it all up in
about two minutes. " My sisters have the same
sort of hair," she murmured.

It being now quite fine, and getting late, we
thought it right to pay our adieus to our host
and hostess, and depart.

"Best Patty," whispered Pet to me, as I was
wishing her good night, " the horrid thunderstorm
has done it. Your so-learned Erasmus
will never be content until that wonderful hair
is his own."

And Pet was right.

Erasmus went as often as ever to Eglantine
Cottage, but he never looked at Mrs. Arundel.
(I don't mind giving her that name now.) He
was talking German to Miss Ross, and regarding
her hair.

I felt certain he was longing for the right to
pull it all down again.