Was it the night breeze that almost imperceptibly raised and lowered it, or was her own dear self concealed behind it?
Just at that moment he suddenly felt his servant's hand on his arm, and as he followed his horror-stricken gaze, a chill ran through his own veins.

From the heavy door of the house, which stood half open, a white-robed figure emerged with the solemn, noiseless footfall of a ghost, and advanced across the courtyard towards him.
Was it a restless spirit risen from its grave at the midnight hour, which must be close at hand?
Through his brain, like a flash of lightning, darted the thought that Eva had spoken to him of her invalid mother.

Had she died?
Was her wandering soul approaching him to drive him from the threshold of the house which hid her endangered child?
But no! The figure had stopped before the door and now, raising its head, gazed with wide eyes upward at the moon, and--he was not mistaken--it was no spectre of darkness; it was she for whom every pulse of his heart throbbed--Eva! No human creature had ever seemed to him so divinely fair as she in her long white night-robe, over which fell the thick waves of her light hair.

The horror which had seized him yielded to the most ardent yearning.

Pressing his hand upon his throbbing heart, he watched her every movement.