Yes--and suddenly the breakfast-table at Silverton, and that letter--the letter to Eugene which she had ever since suspected must have been the turning-point of her previous perfect felicity, but which she had always supposed must have been from Eugene's father. That large red seal the little Louisa had displayed before her eyes. All was now before her. But how then came it lying here upon this foreign soil? Was it forbidden her to lose, even for a moment, the thrilling consciousness of the fate which bound her, that there should be now thrown across her very path, this startling reminder? Standing fixed to the spot--turning the signet over and over in her hand, an uncertain, half-bewildered expression on her sweet face--a sudden idea which crimsoned it to the very temples, then leaving it paler than before--suddenly lit up her countenance. How, indeed, came it lying there? "E. T." Surely from the old man's finger it had not dropped; and if not from Eugene's, might it, could it have been from that of the lost, unhappy, wandering brother, Eustace's? With what object, what intent, she scarcely knew herself--but impulse moved her, with beating heart and trembling step, to pursue the path which she had taken, only remembering the while, that last night, after she was in bed, there had been an arrival at the inn. Two gentlemen from Rome, the _cameriera_ who called her in the morning told her, had roused the house up at a very late hour; and that one of these belated travellers had nevertheless already pressed the dewy turf before her--that it might be him who was the loser, was perhaps, the paramount idea which now possessed her as she hurried on over this fair Italian ground as light in limb--alas! less light at heart as when bounding over the breezy wilds of her native land. She had not been wrong in her conjecture. A sudden turn in the lovely vale she had entered presented to her view, at no great distance from the spot she had attained, a broken fountain, the silvery sound of whose ringing waters faintly reached her ear; and near this, half concealed by the branches of a leaning tree, she discerned the figure of a man, standing watching its light and sparkling play. A few half irresolute steps brought her nearer and nearer still--a few more, and she stood attracted as if by an irresistible spell almost close behind the object of her search. His face had been turned away, but the light rustling of her garments when she drew so near, attracted his attention. He looked round, and there stood Mary with parted lips and crimsoned brow--that look of strange, deep, and eager scrutiny directed towards him. Never did the face of mortal man undergo such immediate change, as did the calm, noble countenance which at the same time revealed itself to the intruder; never were two simple words uttered with such thrilling fervency of tone, as was the ejaculation which broke from the stranger's lips.