dreary and lonely
as it could be. The only sign of any human life was that faint
glimmering light now stationary, as though the searcher whoever he might
be, had found what he wanted, and had settled down in one of the rooms.

As she drew nearer she saw which it was, and trembled. All the rest of
the cottage was in black darkness. The light shone only from the window
of that little inner study on the ground floor.

She had passed through the gate, and with beating heart approached the
window. A few yards away she paused and looked in.

A candle was burning on a small bracket, and, though its light was but
dim, it showed her everything. The cabinet was open, and papers were
strewn about, as though thrown right and left in a desperate search;
and, with his back to her, a man was seated before it, his bared head
resting upon his arms, and his whole attitude full of the passionate
abandonment of a great despair. She had but one thought. It was her
lover returned, and he needed her consolation. With a new light in her
face she turned and moved softly toward the front door. As she reached
the threshold she paused and drew back. There was the sound of footsteps
inside.

She stepped behind a bush and waited. In a moment the door of the
cottage was thrown suddenly open, and the tall figure of a man stood in
the entrance. For one moment he hesitated. Then with a sudden passionate
gesture he raised his hands high above his head, and she heard a long
deep moan burst from his quivering lips.

The pity which swelled up in her heart she kept back with a strong hand.
A strange bewilderment was creeping over her. She had seen only the dark
outline of the figure, but surely it was not the figure of her lover.
And then she held her breath, and walking swiftly away, passing so close
to her that she could look into his white, strained face, Sir Allan
Beaumerville strode down the garden, and disappeared in the shadows of
the plantation.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE SCENE CHANGES

The midday sun had risen into a sky of deep cloudless blue, and a
silence almost as intense as the silence of night rested upon the earth.
No one was abroad, no one seemed to have anything particular to do. Far
away on the vine-covered slopes a few peasants were lazily bending over
their work, the bright garments of their picturesque attire standing out
like little specks of brilliant coloring against the dun-colored
background. But in the quaint old-fashion