She could be strong when it was needful, could face the world as well as any woman who makes a veil of pride for her bleeding heart; but here, amid the sweet wood-perfumes, in silence and secrecy, self-pity caressed her into feebleness.

The light was dimmed by her tears; she rather felt than saw her way.

And thus, with moist eyelashes, she came to her wonted resting-place.

But she found her seat occupied, and by the man whom in this moment she could least bear to meet.
Hubert sat there, bareheaded, lost in thought.

Her light footfall did not touch his ear.