blowing lightly and gently over
the sea; afar the blue water was dotted with innumerable sails; there
were ships passing in all directions, and steamers of all sizes
leaving behind them great trails of smoke.

Over two hours had passed since they first sat down here, and now, at
length, the tide, which had all the while been rising, began to
approach them, until at last the first advance waves came within a
few inches of Hilda's feet. She did not notice it; but this
occurrence gave Gualtier a chance to interrupt her meditations.

"The tide is rising," said he, abruptly; "the next wave will be up to
us. We had better move." It was with a start that Hilda roused
herself. Then she rose slowly, and walked up the beach with Gualtier.

"I should like very much to know," said he, at length, in an
insinuating voice, "if there is any thing more that I can do just
now."

"I have been thinking," said Hilda, without hesitation, "of my next
course of action, and I have decided to go back to Chetwynde at
once."

"To Chetwynde!"

"Yes, and to-morrow morning."

"To-morrow!"

"There is no cause for delay," said Hilda. "The time has at last come
when I can act."

"To Chetwynde!" repeated Gualtier. "I can scarcely understand your
purpose."

"Perhaps not," said Hilda, dryly; "it is one that need not be
explained, for it will not fail to reveal itself in the course of
time under any circumstances."

"But you have some ostensible purpose for going there. You can not go
there merely to take up your abode on the old footing."

"I do not intend to do that," was the cool response. "You may be sure
that I have a purpose. I am going to make certain very necessary
arrangements for the advent of Lady Chetwynde."

"Lady Chetwynde!" repeated Gualtier, with a kind of gasp.

"Yes," said Hilda, who by this time had recovered all her usual
self-control, and exhibited all her old force of character, her
daring, and her coolness, which had long ago given her such an
ascendency over Gualtier. "Yes," she repeated, quietly returning the
other's look of amazement, "and why should I not? Lady Chetwynde has
been absent for her health. Is it not natural that she should send me
to make preparations for her return to her own home? She prefers it
to Pomeroy."

"Good God!" said Gualtier, quite forgetting himself, as a thought
struck him which filled him with bewilderment. Could he fathom her
purpose? Was the idea that occurred to him in very dee