A moment's reflection, hereupon, satisfied him of the identity of the lady.

He had been unjust to poor Assunta, sitting patient in the gloomy arena; she had not come on her own errand.

Rowland's discoveries made him hesitate.

Should he retire as noiselessly as possible, or should he call out a friendly good morning?
While he was debating the question, he found himself distinctly hearing his friends' words.

They were of such a nature as to make him unwilling to retreat, and yet to make it awkward to be discovered in a position where it would be apparent that he had heard them.
"If what you say is true," said Christina, with her usual soft deliberateness--it made her words rise with peculiar distinctness to Rowland's ear--"you are simply weak.