The sun sank lower, its hue changing from poppy red to burning orange--and presently a woman's figure appeared on the hill slope, and cautiously approached the sleeper--a beautiful figure of classic mould and line, clothed in a simple white linen garb, with a red rose at its breast. It was Manella. She had taken extraordinary pains with her attire, plain though it was--something dainty and artistic in the manner of its wearing made its simplicity picturesque,--and the red rose at her bosom was effectively supplemented by another in her hair, showing brilliantly against its rich blackness. She stopped when about three paces away from the sleeping man and watched him with a wonderful tenderness. Her lips quivered sweetly--her lovely eyes shone with a soft wistfulness,--she looked indeed, as Morgana had said of her, "quite beautiful." Instinctively aware in slumber that he was not alone, Seaton stirred--opened his eyes, and sprang up. "What! Manella!" he exclaimed--"I thought you were too busy to come!" She hung her head a little shamefacedly. "I HAD to come"--she answered--"There was no one else ready to bring this--for you." She held out a telegram. He opened and read it. It was very brief--"Shall be with you to-morrow. Gwent." He folded it and put it in his pocket. Then he turned to Manella, smiling. "Very good of you to bring this!" he said--"Why didn't you send Irish Jake?" "He is taking luggage down from the rooms," she answered--"Many people are going away to-day." "Is that why you are 'so busy'"? he asked, the smile still dancing in his eyes. She gave a little toss of her head but said nothing. "And how fine we are to-day!" he said, glancing over her with an air of undisguised admiration--"White suits you, Manella! You should always wear it! For what fortunate man have you dressed yourself so prettily?" She shrugged her shoulders expressively-- "For you!" "For me? Oh, Manella! What a frank confession! And what a contradiction you are to yourself! For did you not send word by that Irish monkey that you were 'too busy to come'? And yet you dress yourself in white, with red roses, for ME! And you come after all! Capricious child! Oh Senora Soriso, how greatly honoured I am!" She looked straight at him. "You laugh, you laugh!" she said--"But I do not care! You can laugh at me all the time if you like. But--you cannot help looking at me! Ah yes!--you cannot help THAT!" A triumphant glory flashed in her eyes--her red lips parted in a ravishing smile. "You cannot help it!" she repeated--"That little white lady--that friend of yours whom you hate and love at the same time!--she told me I was 'quite beautiful!' I know I am!--and you know it too!" He bent his eyes upon her gravely. "I have always known it--yes!"--he said, then paused--"Dear child, beauty is nothing--" She made a swift step towards him and laid a hand on his arm. Her ardent, glowing face was next to his.