Watching her opportunity—when the eyes of the young Creole were turned downwards—she glided into the lateral ravine, and concealed herself behind the curtain of leaves. Cowering within the covert, she awaited the ascent of her rival.
Amidst the tumult of her emotions, there was no chance to reason calmly. Suspicion of Herbert’s perfidy—for it is not to be denied that the young man had shown her attentions, or, at all events, had passively permitted her to think so—suspicion of his faithlessness had now become certainty. There could be no mistake about the intended meeting between him and his cousin—at least, so Judith, blinded by her passions, believed.
There was Kate coming upon the ground, and Herbert—he would soon be after! Strange, he had not arrived first! But that had not much significance. He could not be far off; and, no doubt, would be there in good time—perhaps, overtake his sweetheart ere she could reach the summit of the rock?
Thus ran the reflections of the rival.
She listened for Herbert’s voice—expecting every moment to hear him hailing from below.
She cast listless glances down the ravine, in the belief she should presently see him following frantically upon the footsteps of his cousin, and chiding himself for not being foremost at the tryst.