And it could be seen, too, that they were not coming on openly and boldly, like men bent on an honest errand, but skulking along the edge of the creek, here and there crouching under the cane, whose thin growth only partially concealed them. The noise they made was inadvertent. They were not making more than they could help, and, if there was any talk between them, it must have been in whispers, as no words were heard by the two standing under the tree.
For them it was too late to retreat unobserved.
They might have done so at first; but not now. The skulkers were too near, and any attempt to get away from the spot would expose the lovers under the full light of the moon.
Their only chance to remain undiscovered was to keep within the shadow of the tree.
Not long before, this, too, appeared doubtful; as they now saw that the dark forms advancing along the edge of the stream must pass close to where they stood—so close as to see them in spite of the obscurity.
Who the cautious travellers were, or what their designs, neither had the slightest idea. But it mattered not what. Enough for the lovers to know that they were in danger of being surprised, and under circumstances to cause them chagrin.
What was to be done? The skulkers were coming on. They would soon be under the tree!
The returned gold-seeker had taken the young girl on his arm—partly with the idea of protecting her should any rudeness he attempted, and partly to inspire her with courage.
He was thinking whether it would not be the best for them to step boldly out and show themselves in the open light. It would less expose them to ridicule, though the lateness of the hour—it was now after midnight—would still render them liable to that. A young lady and gentleman—they had markedly this appearance—indulging in a moonlight stroll at nigh one o’clock of the morning, were not likely to escape scandal if seen.
What was to be done?