The shadow had grown shorter, but there was still enough to shew me that it was the form of a man. In another moment, it vanished.
Scarcely an instant had elapsed, ere a second was flung upon the water, advancing over the ridge, and as if following the track of the former one, though the two persons did not appear to be in company.
That which followed I could trace in full outline. It was the figure of a woman, one whose upright bearing and free port proved her to be young.
Even the shadow exhibited a certain symmetry of form and gracefulness of motion, incompatible with age. Was it still Haj-Ewa? Had she gone round through the thicket, and was now following the footsteps of the man?
For a moment I fancied so; but I soon perceived that my fancy was astray.
The man advanced under the tree. The same moonbeam, that but a moment before had shone upon Haj-Ewa, now fell upon him, and I saw him with sufficient distinctness; he was the aide-de-camp.
He stopped, took out his watch, held it up to the light, and appeared to be inquiring the hour.
But I heeded him no further. Another face appeared under that silvery ray—false and shining as itself: it was the face that to me seemed the loveliest in the world—the face of Maümee.