CHAPTER II.
If this had been an ordinary woman, I should not have noticed her, beyond the passing regard of the moment; it was the grace of her walk that attracted my attention, and I felt sure that as she passed my by I heard the sound of bitter passionate sobbing.
The old story over again, I thought--sorrow and pain, longing and love! But for the sound of that sob as she passed me I should not have watched her--I should not have known what afterward I would have given my life not to know.
She walked right on to the very head of the pier, and stood there for a few minutes.

I knew, by instinct, that she was crying bitterly; then I was struck by the manner in which she looked round; it was evident to me that she wished to be quite alone.

At times the waves playing round the wooden pillars made some unusual sound; she turned quickly, as though she suspected some one was near her.

Once a gentleman strolled leisurely down the pier, stood for a few minutes watching the sea in silence, then went away; while he was there she stood still and motionless as a statue; then she looked round with a stealthy gaze--a gaze so unlike the free, grand grace of her movements that I was struck by it.

She could not see me because I was in the deep shadow, but I could see every gesture of hers.