"But we shall lose you, too, Ma'm'selle," demurred the girl, hesitatingly.
"No, no; I will follow you slowly. Go; they may fall into the water if you linger."
"Miss Maggie's nigh sure to, with they buns!" said the girl, taking the alarm, and without any more loitering she darted after the runaways.
Alexia did not follow. For a moment she stood on the broad gravel walk looking about her. Groups of figures were scattered about the smooth turf—young ladies with novels; old ladies with crochet and poodles; nurse- [here a lack in the original text] The girl looked, not at, but around and beyond them; her great eyes seemed to be searching, as if surprised at not seeing something, and yet dreading to see it. Then their expression changed; for a moment her figure swayed; the next she was walking gracefully, slowly, languidly, toward a rustic seat which stood upon the smooth greensward in a somewhat lonely spot. It stood at an angle formed by two flower-beds, and was backed by a clump of shrubbery. Upon it there was one figure seated—that of a man.
The governess approached this figure slowly. A middle-aged man, loosely-dressed, hair turning gray, dark-complexioned, with a scar on his cheek, a scar such as a slash with a keen-edged knife might have made. She approached and passed him; she did not look at him; he did not look at her; he appeared to be quite absorbed in absently cutting and fashioning a rough stick with the aid of a large clasp-knife. He gazed before him abstractedly, brushed the splinters of wood from his knee, and laid the knife down upon the seat beside him, the edge of the blade uppermost. The girl shuddered; the ivory pallor of her cheeks grew gray beneath her veil. She passed on round the clump of bushes and returned. The man had abandoned his whittling, and, with his chin upon his hand, whistled as he looked down at the grass at his feet. His right hand played absently with the open knife; now the edge was upward, now downward, now he half closed it, then opened it wide again. Alexia Boucheafen's breath came rapidly; one violent throb of her heart almost suffocated her; but, graceful, upright, stately, she passed the seat as though it were vacant; she did not appear to glance at the man sitting there, toying with the knife, and whistling under his breath. She passed him, and, as she did so, her gloved hand made a swift motion, and a white object gleamed upon the turf behind her. A paper had fluttered from her fingers, and lay close to the rustic seat.
Tom, Floss, and Maggie, flinging pieces of bun to voracious ducks, were delighted—far too absorbed to remember their governess; and Ellen, finding herself fully occupied in keeping their hats on their heads and themselves outside the railings that surrounded the lake, had also forgotten Miss Boucheafen completely. The girl was quite startled when she saw the tall dark figure suddenly beside her, the great bright eyes shining through the black veil. And how pale she was—her cheeks were quite white!
"Lor, Ma'm'selle," she cried, with loud-voiced sympathy, "how bad you do look!"
"I'm tired," said Alexia abruptly. "Children, are you ready to go?"
"Ready? Why, we ain't had half a walk!" demurred Tom.
"I'm hungry!" exclaimed Floss, tugging at Miss Boucheafen's gown. "Maggie went an' threw all the buns to the ducks, she did—little stupid."