Then, as he looked about him, his eye fell on two objects that gave him a shock, a bracelet and a handkerchief. The former lay imbedded in the turf, as if trod upon; the other fluttered on the stem of a wild vine. He took up the former, a Turkish rose-pearl bracelet, which he remembered to have seen Margarita wear; so she must have come to the meeting-place and lost it. But why had she come and gone so soon? The handkerchief, a white silk one, he examined, and on a corner thereof saw the name of 'Mattei Guebhard.' Guebhard--then he too had been there; had in some way anticipated him! And now he saw that all the turf about the narrow path bore the indentations of feet, as if a struggle had taken place, and a great horror of--he knew not what--fell upon the heart of Cecil. He thought of the Circassian and Egyptian patrols, who were said to be scouting between the Morava and the Timok, but he thought not of the peasant who had dogged his party yesterday. Had Guebhard succeeded in carrying her off--in abducting her beyond the Turkish lines? If so, in these days of Bulgarian atrocities, Cecil could but fear the worst, and his heart died within him as he returned, slowly and reluctantly, and with many a backward glance, to the road, where his troopers awaited him. There was no time given him for inquiry, no time for further delay, and at a rapid trot the homeward march began. CHAPTER XIII. THE WAYSIDE CHAPEL. On the morning of the same day, Margarita was surprised to receive a note, purporting to be from Cecil, whose handwriting she had never seen, requesting her to be at the wayside chapel of Krall Lazar two hours before noon, as the exigencies of the service required his presence elsewhere at the time formerly appointed. This note had been give to Theodore by a man attired like a peasant, who promptly disappeared. 'Sooner than noon!' thought Margarita; 'perhaps he is impatient to see me. He does love me--he must love me. But perhaps some dread of Palenka fetters his tongue; or can it be--but let me not think _that_!' Never had Ottilie found her mistress more difficult to please in the mode of dressing her beautiful hair, than on the morning of this day, in the selection of a costume and the choice of colours; but at last she was attired to her own satisfaction, and when the time came, left Palenka by a garden-gate, and took the path that led to the wayside chapel, or altar, for, though named the former, it had rather the character of being the latter only. Like Cecil, she, with all her hopes and wishes, had more than once questioned herself as to the end or utility of this meeting which it had been--she felt it--so unwomanly in her to invite.