She quickened her
steps, then suddenly stopped again. What did this mean? It could
not be Alessandro. Ramona wrung her hands in agony of suspense.
An almost unconquerable instinct urged her forward; but terror
held her back. After standing irresolute for some minutes, she
turned to walk back to the house, saying, "I must not run the risk of
its being a stranger. If it is Alessandro, he will come."
But her feet seemed to refuse to move in the opposite direction.
Slower and slower she walked for a few paces, then turned again.
The man had returned to his former place, and stood as at first,
leaning against the tree.
"It may be a messenger from him," she said; "a messenger who has
been told not to come to the house until after dark."
Her mind was made up. She quickened her pace to a run. A few
moments more brought her so near that she could see distinctly. It
was -- yes, it was Alessandro. He did not see her. His face was
turned partially away, his head resting against the tree; he must be
ill. Ramona flew, rather than ran. In a moment more, Alessandro
had heard the light steps, turned, saw Ramona, and, with a cry,
bounded forward, and they were clasped in each other's arms
before they had looked in each other's faces.
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