turning these into a
new and very different channel.

He whose appearance produces such effect--for it is a man--seems wholly
unconscious of the influence he has exerted; indeed, is so.

When first observed, he is coming down the central walk; which, though
wide, is partially shadowed by trees. And in their shadow he keeps,
clinging to it, as if desirous to shun observation. His step declares
it; not bold this, nor regardless, but skulking, with tread catlike;
while every now and then he casts a backward glance, as if in fear of
some one being behind. Just that which hinders him from seeing those
who are in front.

The girls are still standing together, with hands joined--luckily on one
of the side-walks, and like himself in shadow--though very near to
having separated, and one, at least, rushing out into the light at first
sound of his footstep. For to Jessie it gave joy, supposing it that of
her Luis. Naturally expecting him to join her, she was almost sure of
its being he.

Only for an instant. The tread was too light for a man marching with
honest intent, and the step too shuffling to be that of the young
planter. So whispered Helen.

Soon they see it is not he, but his major-domo.

Both are annoyed, some little irritated, at being thus intruded upon.
At such a time, in the midst of sacred emotions, all the more by a man
they both instinctively dislike. For Fernand is not a favourite with
either.

Then the idea occurs, he may be coming to seek them, sent with some
message from the house, and if so, they can excuse him. Concluding his
errand to be this, they await it, in silence.

They are quite mistaken, and soon perceive it. An honest messenger
would not be moving as he. While passing the open ground by the ruined
waterworks, the moon falls full upon his face, which wears an expression
anything but innocent, as they can both see. Besides, his gestures also
betray guilt; for he is skulking, and casting glances back.

"What can it mean?" whispers Jessie into Helen's ear; who replies by
placing a finger on her lips, and drawing her sister into deeper shadow.

Silent both stand, not stirring, scarce breathing. One seeing, might
easily mistake them for statues--a Juno and a Venus. Fortunately
Fernand does not see, else he might scrutinise them more closely. He is
too much absorbed about his own affair, whatever it be, to think of any
one loitering there at that time of the night.

Where the