He saw Moravia's blue velvet dress in the distance down the road when he left the lodge gates, and he fled into the garden; he must be alone--but she had seen him go, and knew that another crisis had come and that she must conquer this time also.

So apparently only for the gratification of Girolamo, she turned and entered the garden--the garden which seemed to be a predestined spot for the stratagems of lovers!--then she strolled toward the sea-wall, not turning her head in the direction where she plainly perceived Henry had gone, but taking care that Girolamo should see him, as she knew he would run to him.

This he immediately did, and dragged his victim back to his mother in the pavilion which looked out over the sea.

Girolamo was now three years old and a considerable imp; he displayed Henry proudly and boasted of his catch--while Moravia scolded him sweetly and asked Henry to forgive them for intruding upon his solitude.
"You know I understand you must want to be alone, dear friend, and I would not have come if I had seen you," she said, tenderly, while she turned and, leaning out, beckoned to the nurse, whom she could just see across the causeway on the courtyard wall, where the raised parapet was.
Then allowing her feelings to overcome her judgment, she flung out her arms and seizing Henry's hands, she drew them into her warm, huge muff.
"Henry--I can't help it--!" she gasped.

"It breaks my heart to see you so cold and white and numb--I want to warm and comfort and love you back to life again----!" At this minute, the sun burst through the scudding clouds, and blazed in upon them from the archway; and it seemed to Henry as if a new vitality rushed into his frozen veins.