He leaned over the gate which led into the little plantation, and he was suddenly grave and silent.

A night-wind was blowing fragrant and cool.

The dark boughs of the trees waved to and fro against the background of deep blue sky.
The lime leaves rustled softly, the perfume of roses came floating across from the flower-gardens.

Trent stood quite still, listening and thinking.
"God! what a beast I am!" he muttered.

"It was there she sat! I'm not fit to breathe the same air." He looked back towards the house.