e small hill after
another in the wake of a fluttering skirt.

It was the cemetery road, and odd as the fancy was, he felt that he
should overtake her at the old gate, behind which lay so many of her
name. Here he had seen her name before its erasement from the family
monument, and here he should see--could he say Anitra if he found her
bending over those graves; the woman who could not hear, who could not
read,--whose childish memory, if she had any in connection with this
spot, could not be distinct enough or sufficiently intelligent to guide
her to this one plot? No. Human credulity can go far, but not so far as
that. He knew that all his old doubts would return if, on entering the
cemetery, he found her under the brown shaft carved with the name of
Hazen.

The test was one he had not sought and did not welcome. Yet he felt
bound, now that he recognized it as such, to see it through and accept
its teaching for what it surely would be worth. Only he began to move
with more precaution and studied more to hide his approach than to give
any warning of it.

The close ranks of the elderberry bushes lining the fences on the final
hill-top lent themselves to the concealment he now sought. As soon as he
was sure of her having left the road he drew up close to these bushes and
walked under them till he was almost at the gate. Then he allowed himself
to peer through their close branches and received an unexpected shock at
seeing her figure standing very near him, posed in an uncertainty which,
for some reason, he had not expected, but which restored him to himself,
though why he had not the courage, the time, nor the inclination to ask.

She was babbling in a low tone to herself, an open sesame to her mind,
which Ransom hailed with a sense of awe. If only he might distinguish the
words! But this was difficult; not only was her head turned partly away,
but she spoke in a murmur which was far from distinct. Yet--yes, that one
sentence was plain enough. She had muttered musingly, anxiously, and with
a searching look among the graves:

"It was on this side. I know it was on this side."

Watching her closely lest some chance glance of hers should stray his
way, he listened still more intently and was presently rewarded by
catching another sentence.

"A single grave all by itself. I fell over it and my mother scolded me,
saying it was my father's. There was a bush near it. A bush with white
flowers on it. I tried to pick some