hich flashed out so brightly through the
gloom of night--the noisy crowds which thronged every where--the
foaming spray that danced upward from the fountains, gleaming in the
light of the lamps--the thousand scenes of mirth and revelry that
arose on every side--all these had no attraction for this woman, who
had come here for one purpose only, and who carried this purpose deep
in her heart. The company wore every imaginable attire. Most of them
were in masks, but some of them had none; while Hilda, in her
mournful robe, that spoke to all of death and funereal rites, was
alone in the singularity of her costume.

She wandered throughout all the grounds, and through the villa
itself, in search of one thing, but that one thing she could not
find. At length her weary feet refused to support her any longer in
what seemed a hopeless search, and she sat down near one of the
fountains in the central avenue, and gave herself up to despondent
thoughts.

About half an hour passed, when suddenly two figures approached that
riveted her attention. They were a man and a woman. Her heart beat
fast. There was no mistake about the man. His dress was the dress
which she herself had seen and examined. He wore a domino, but
beneath it could be seen his whiskers, cut after the English fashion,
and long and pendent. But Hilda knew that face so familiarly that
there was no doubt in her mind, although she only saw the lower
portion. And a woman was with him, resting on his arm. They passed by
her in silence. Hilda waited till they had gone by, and then arose
and followed stealthily. Now had come the time for discovery, perhaps
for vengeance. In her wild impulse she had brought a dagger with her,
which she had secreted in her breast. As she followed her hand played
mechanically with the hilt of this dagger. It was on this that she
had instinctively placed her ultimate resolve. They walked on
swiftly, but neither of them turned to see whether they were followed
or not. The idea of such a thing never seemed to have entered into
the mind of either of them. After a time they left the avenue, and
turned into a side-path; and, following its course, they went onward
to the more remote parts of the grounds. Here there were but few
people, and these grew fewer as they went on. At length they came to
the end of this path, and turned to the right. Hilda hurried onward
stealthily, and, turning, saw an arbor embowered among the trees.
Near by was a light,