She turned back toward the boat, walking slowly, but paused as a faint and distant cry again reached her ear.

It was not repeated, and then she entered the grove.
The ground beneath her feet was soft with velvety moss, and the dark foliage of the trees rendered the air cool and deliciously fragrant.
After wandering for some time, she regained the edge of the grove near the boat, and selecting a spot at the foot of an aged cypress, she sat down with her back against its trunk.

Then she took out Arthur's letter, and began to read those impassioned sentences; as she read she sighed deeply, as earnestly she found herself pitying Arthur's condition more than she regretted her own.

She fell into reverie, and from reverie into a drowsy languor.

How long she remained in this state she could not remember, but a slight rustle overhead recalled her senses.