It was the stranger.
She fell back a step in utter helplessness.
He, on his side, retreated again into the wheat, holding it back with extended arms to let her pass.

As she moved forward mechanically, without a word he moved backward, making a path for her until she was able to discern the coachman's whip above the bending heads of the grain just beyond her.

He stopped here and drew to one side, his arms still extended, to give her free passage.

She tried to speak, but could only bow her head, and slipped by him with a strange feeling--suggested by his attitude--that she was evading his embrace.
But the next moment his arms were lowered, the grain closed around him, and he was lost to her view.

She reached the carriage almost unperceived by the inmates, and pounced upon her sister with a laugh.
"Blessed Virgin!" said Amita, "where did you come from ?" "From there!" said Maruja, with a slight nervous shiver, pointing to the clustering grain.
"We were afraid you were lost." "So was I," said Maruja, raising her pretty lashes heavenwards, as she drew a shawl tightly round her shoulders.
"Has anything happened.