a piece of work--for I was something or other that could sit--
on the old stone bench which overlooked the pond; and in this
position I began to take in with certitude, and yet without
direct vision, the presence, at a distance, of a third person.
The old trees, the thick shrubbery, made a great and pleasant shade,
but it was all suffused with the brightness of the hot, still hour.
There was no ambiguity in anything; none whatever, at least,
in the conviction I from one moment to another found myself
forming as to what I should see straight before me and across
the lake as a consequence of raising my eyes. They were attached
at this juncture to the stitching in which I was engaged,
and I can feel once more the spasm of my effort not to move them
till I should so have steadied myself as to be able to make up
my mind what to do. There was an alien object in view--a figure
whose right of presence I instantly, passionately questioned.
I recollect counting over perfectly the possibilities,
reminding myself that nothing was more natural, for instance,
then the appearance of one of the men about the place, or even
of a messenger, a postman, or a tradesman's boy, from the village.
That reminder had as little effect on my practical
certitude as I was conscious--still even without looking--
of its having upon the character and attitude of our visitor.
Nothing was more natural than that these things should be
the other things that they absolutely were not.

Of the positive identity of the apparition I would assure myself
as soon as the small clock of my courage should have ticked out the
right second; meanwhile, with an effort that was already sharp enough,
I transferred my eyes straight to little Flora, who, at the moment,
was about ten yards away. My heart had stood still for an instant