Finally, however, attracted by the glory of the sunset behind the hills towards Abrantes, she sauntered out on to the terrace, to the intense thankfulness of a poor wretch who had waited there for the past ten hours in the almost despairing hope that precisely such a thing might happen.
She was leaning upon the balustrade when a rustle in the pines below drew her attention.

The rustle worked swiftly upwards and round to the bushes on her right, and her eyes, faintly startled, followed its career, what time she stood tense and vaguely frightened.
Then the bushes parted and a limping figure that leaned heavily upon a stick disclosed itself; a shaggy, red-bearded man in the garb of a peasant; and marvel of marvels!--this figure spoke her name sharply, warningly almost, before she had time to think of screaming.
"Una! Una! Don't move!" The voice was certainly the voice of Mr.Butler.But how came that voice into the body of this peasant?
Terrified, with drumming pulses, yet obedient to the injunction, she remained without speech or movement, whilst crouching so as to keep below the level of the balustrade the man crept forward until he was immediately before and below her.
She stared into that haggard face, and through the half-mask of stubbly beard gradually made out the features of her brother.
"Richard!" The name broke from her in a scream.
"'Sh!" He waved his hands in wild alarm to repress her.

"For God's sake, be quiet! It's a ruined man I am if they find me here.

You'll have heard what's happened to me ?" She nodded, and uttered a half-strangled "Yes." "Is there anywhere you can hide me?
Can you get me into the house without being seen?
I am almost starving, and my leg is on fire.

I was wounded three days ago to make matters worse than they were already.