force in repose,--physical energy held in leash.

The sun sank lower, its hue changing from poppy red to burning
orange--and presently a woman's figure appeared on the hill slope, and
cautiously approached the sleeper--a beautiful figure of classic mould
and line, clothed in a simple white linen garb, with a red rose at its
breast. It was Manella. She had taken extraordinary pains with her
attire, plain though it was--something dainty and artistic in the
manner of its wearing made its simplicity picturesque,--and the red
rose at her bosom was effectively supplemented by another in her hair,
showing brilliantly against its rich blackness. She stopped when about
three paces away from the sleeping man and watched him with a wonderful
tenderness. Her lips quivered sweetly--her lovely eyes shone with a
soft wistfulness,--she looked indeed, as Morgana had said of her,
"quite beautiful." Instinctively aware in slumber that he was not
alone, Seaton stirred--opened his eyes, and sprang up.

"What! Manella!" he exclaimed--"I thought you were too busy to come!"

She hung her head a little shamefacedly.

"I HAD to come"--she answered--"There was no one else ready to bring
this--for you."

She held out a telegram. He opened and read it. It was very
brief--"Shall be with you to-morrow. Gwent."

He folded it and put it in his pocket. Then he turned to Manella,
smiling.

"Very good of you to bring this!" he said--"Why didn't you send Irish
Jake?"

"He is taking luggage down from the rooms," she answered--"Many people
are going away to-day."

"Is that why you are 'so busy'"? he asked, the smile still dancing in
his eyes.

She gave a little toss of her head but said nothing.

"And how fine we are to-day!" he said, glancing over her with an air of
undisguised admiration--"White suits you, Manella! You should always
wear it! For what fortunate man have you dressed yourself so prettily?"

She shrugged her shoulders expressively--

"For you!"

"For me? Oh, Manella! What a frank confession! And what a contradiction
you are to yourself! For did you not send word by that Irish monkey
that you were 'too busy to come'? And yet you dress yourself in white,
with red roses, for ME! And you come after all! Capricious child! Oh
Senora Soriso, how greatly honoured I am!"

She looked straight at him.

"You laugh, you laugh!" she said--"But I do not care! You can laugh at
me all the time if you like. But--you cannot help looking at m