from the Villa Venturi. There was
also a note. Stretton opened it and read:--

"Dear Mr. Stretton,--Will you do me the favour to come up to the
villa as soon as you receive this note? I am sorry to trouble you,
but I think I can explain my motive when we meet.

"Yours truly,

"Alfred Heron."

Stretton crumpled the note up in his hand, and let it drop to the floor.
He glanced at his knapsack. Had he packed it too soon or not?

He followed the servant, whom he found in waiting for him--a stolid,
impenetrable-looking Englishman, who led the way to an entrance into the
garden of the villa--an entrance which Stretton did not know.

"Is your master in the garden? Does he wish me to come this way?" he
asked, rather sharply.

The stolid servant bowed his head.

"My master desired me to take you to the lower terrace, sir, if you
didn't find it too 'ot," he said, solemnly. And Stretton said nothing
more. The lower terrace? It was not the terrace by the house; it was one
at the further end of the garden, and, as he soon saw, it was upon a
cliff overlooking the sea. It was overshadowed by the foliage of some
great trees, and commanded a magnificent view of the coast, broken here
and there into inlets and tiny bays, beyond which stretched "the deep
sapphire of the sea." A slight haze hung over the distance, through
which the forms of mountain peaks and tiny islets could yet be clearly
seen. The wash of the water at the foot of the cliff, the chirp of the
cicadas, were the only sounds to be heard. And here, on a low, wooden
bench, in the deepest and coolest shade afforded by the trees, Stretton
found--not Mr. Heron, as he had expected, but--Elizabeth.

He bowed, hesitating and confused for the moment, but she gave him her
white hand with a friendly look which set him at his ease, just as it
had done upon his entrance to the villa on the previous evening.

"Sit down, Mr. Stretton," she said, "will you not? My uncle has gone up
to the house for a paper, or a book, or something, and I undertook to
entertain you until he came back. Have we not a lovely view? And one is
always cool here under the trees, now that the heats of summer are past.
I think you will find it a good place to read in when you are tired of
giving lessons--that is, if you are going to be so kind as to give
lessons to our troublesome boys."

She had looked at him once, and in that glance she read what would have
taken Mr. Heron's o