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