For many seconds she stood motionless, not breathing, not daring to turn her head. Then, as her strength partially returned, she took two steps forward to the seat under the lilac tree, and, her hand upon the back of it, she spoke.
"Nap!"
He came, gliding like a shadow behind her. Slowly she turned and faced him.
He was still in riding-dress. She heard again the faint jingle of his spurs. Yet the moonlight shone strangely down upon him, revealing in him something foreign, something incongruous, that she marvelled that she had never before noticed. The fierce, dusky face with its glittering eyes and savage mouth was oddly unfamiliar to her, though she knew it all by heart. In imagination she clothed him with the blanket and moccasins of Capper's uncouth speech; and she was afraid.
She did not know how to break the silence. The heart within her was leaping like a wild thing in captivity.
"Why are you here?" she said at last, and she knew that her voice shook.
He answered her instantly, with a certain doggedness. "I want to know what Capper has been saying to you."
She started almost guiltily. Her nerves were on edge that night.
"You may as well tell me," he said coolly. "Sooner or later I am bound to know."
With an effort she quieted her agitation. "Then it must be later," she said. "I cannot stay to talk with you now."