There was a mystery in the garden.

In that spot the night was not always empty, the darkness not always silent.

Something far off stirred and listened to his cry, at times drawing nearer to him.

At first this presence had been a matter for terror; but of late, as he felt it gradually drawing nearer, the terror had at long intervals given place to a feeling of an almost ineffable sweetness.

But distrusting his own senses, unwilling to submit himself to such torturing, uncertain happiness, averse to the terrible confusion of spirit that followed upon a night spent in the garden, Vanamee had tried to keep away from the place.