He ferreted about in all quarters; made inquiries of a number of persons from whom he thought he might obtain the desired information, but was unable to get the faintest clue to anyone. He pushed his inquiries still further, but was in no way successful. He frequently bent his steps in the direction of the widow’s cottage, where dwelt the woman for whom he was ready to make any sacrifice. He hovered about the house and grounds in a state of hopeless and almost incurable despair. It was even some solace for him to contemplate the habitation, and to conjure up, by the agency of imagination, the fair young creature moving about from room to room. One day, while traversing the lane, he heard voices in the garden; they proceeded from the other side of the hedge which skirted the grounds. Peace came to a halt――listened most attentively. He could hear the low, musical tones of Aveline, and hear also the voice of a man in close converse with her. His heart beat audibly, his pulse quickened. “She has some one with her,” he murmured. Moved by a sudden impulse, he crept by the side of the fence until he had gained the extreme end of the garden. A quickset hedge ran along this, through the interstices of which Peace was able, unobserved, to obtain a view of the summer-house, upon which his eyes were now riveted. He saw Aveline Maitland seated therein. By her side was a tall, handsome young man, whose looks denoted the state of his heart. He was whispering loving words to her――so Peace imagined, and was by no means mistaken. It was evident that he was saying something that pleased her, for ever and anon she smiled. Peace’s brain seemed to be on fire, his knees knocked together, and his whole frame shook with ill-suppressed passion. “Tom Gatliffe, as I’m a living man!” he exclaimed. “He then is my rival, the sneaking hound! Ah, if I had only known this before!” He ground his teeth with rage, and watched the lovers with the eyes of a basilisk. It would have been too plainly perceptible, even to a casual observer, to say nothing of the penetrating and suspicious glance of Peace, that the young lady in the alcove lent an attentive ear to the soft, low sentences breathed by her male companion. Peace became furious as he gazed upon the loving pair; nevertheless, he found it impossible to leave the spot. The foliage behind which he hid was sufficiently dense to screen him, but even if this had not been the case, he was wound up to such a state of desperation that he would not have much cared had the faithless Aveline and her companion become aware of his position behind his leafy screen. Indeed, the thought crossed his mind more than once, of emerging from his place of concealment and confronting them. But, upon second consideration, he came to the conclusion that no possible good could result from such a course of action, and therefore determined to keep where he was till the interview was over. He would watch and wait.