I arose from my seat and moved toward her, and hearing me she turned quickly.
“Hildegarde!” I said, softly.
She started back.
“I thought you—all must be asleep; it was so warm below, I could not rest, and I felt I must come where I could get the air,” she said, quickly, as though desirous of having me believe it was not her intention to seek me.
“I am glad you did—I had quite made up my mind to doze here in a chair. It is very pleasant; but the sea air grows cool and you have no wrap—let me get you something.”
Without waiting to hear her reply I darted into the cabin; one of the first things that caught my eye was a delicate pink thing in zephyr wool—Diana had tossed it aside when entering—it would just fill the bill.
I snatched it up and ran out.
The prospect of a tête-à-tête with Hildegarde affected me strangely; I was even weak with excitement and hope.
Who could tell what it might not bring forth.
I resolved to be very considerate, yet seek for light regarding her presence in Bolivar.