which hung from the branch of a tree on one
side. She heard low voices, and knew that they had gone into the
arbor. She crept up behind it, and got close to it--so close, indeed,
that they, while sitting at the back, had but a few inches between
themselves and this listener. The rays of the lantern shone in, so
that Hilda could see, as they sat between her and the light, the
outlines of their forms. But that light was obstructed by the leaves
that clung to the arbor, and in the shadow their features were
invisible. Two dark figures were before her, and that was all.

"We can stay here alone for some time," said Lord Chetwynde, after a
long silence. He spoke in a whisper, which, however, was perfectly
audible to Hilda.

"Yes," said the other, speaking in the same whisper. "He is amusing
himself in the Grand Avenue."

"And we have an hour, at least, to ourselves. We are to meet him at
the Grand Fountain; He will wait for us."

There was another silence.

Hilda heard this with strange feelings. Who was this _he_ of whom
they spoke? Was he the husband of this woman? Of course. There was no
other explanation. They could not be so cautious and so regardful
about any other. Nor, indeed, deed, did the thought of any other come
into her mind in that hour of excitement. She thought that she could
understand it all. Could she but find out this woman's name, then it
would be possible to take vengeance in a better and less dangerous
way than by using the dagger. She could find out this injured
husband, and use him as an instrument for vengeance. And, as this
thought came to her, she sheathed her dagger.

The conversation began again. As before, it was in a whisper.

"We are secluded here. No one can see us. It is as quiet as our kiosk
at the villa."

"Heavens!" thought Hilda. "A trysting-place!"

A sigh escaped the other.

"You are sighing," said Lord Chetwynde. "Are you unhappy?"

"I'm only too happy; but I--I--I'm thinking of the future."

"Don't think of the future. The present is our only concern. When I
think of the future, I feel as though I should go mad. The future! My
God! Let me banish it from my thoughts. Help me to forget it. You
alone can!"

And even in that whisper, which reached Hilda's ears, there was an
impassioned and infinite tenderness which pierced her heart.

"Oh God!" she thought, "how he loves her! And I--what hope have I?"

"What blessed fortune was it," resumed Lord Chetwynde, "that led m