Just as she was beginning to feel refreshed in the coolness, her glance became sensible of a movement in the distance. Something had crossed over the third ridge, and descended out of sight into the hollow between it and the second. She did not look that way in time to see what it was, but supposed it to have been a shepherd.
While she leaned against the bole of the tree idling, she took out her penknife, a slight thing with a mother-of-pearl handle and a thin narrow blade. Why are ladies’ penknives so feebly made? Directly you begin to cut with one, the blade shakes and turns, or threatens to go right back, in spite of the spring.
Felise took the blade itself between her finger and thumb—as the handle was useless she hafted it with her white fingers—and began to cut out a slice of the bark of the beech.
This tree has a rind, smooth, and readily incised. It is not very thick, yet thick enough for a marked notch to be left if a strip be cut out. Felise forced the tender blade through the bark, and drew two parallel lines; then she loosened and tore out the thin strip between these, leaving a straight perpendicular stroke, or 
. The sap glistened in the groove.
She did it in mere idleness, quite thoughtlessly, and without intent. Now see what follows from one stroke, and how careful people should be before they begin anything. How can you tell where it may lead you?
She contemplated the glistening groove; and then, suddenly taking more interest in the work, began to draw two more parallel lines from the top of the first aslant to the right. This incision was somewhat shorter; it did not descend quite so far as the . It was connected with the first at the top. When the strip of bark was peeled out there were two glistening lines of sap, in shape something like half the conventional arrowhead on Government property—
In a minute or two she began to add to this piece of work a further stroke, ascending from the descending one, also to the right, which, when peeled, left a strange Ogham-like character—
So soon as she had done this she was startled at her own deed, and tried to rub it out with her soft hand, which was unlikely to produce much effect on the bark of a tree. Rub it as hard as she might, there was the incision, and she could not make the bark grow again. It is not so easy to undo what has once been done. The beech would not obliterate that mark in twenty years. The very thought increased her trepidation; her cheek grew warm—everyone who passed would see it for twenty years.
The reflection that although they would see it they might not understand it, did not occur to her. What was so plain to her must be evident to others. Guilty people always imagine everyone is watching them—that everyone detects their secret. Someone might be looking now. She looked up, and immediately drew close to the tree, hiding behind it.
While these labours had been proceeding, the figure which had appeared over the third ridge, to disappear immediately in the hollow, had come up again over the second ridge, gone down into the second hollow, and was at that moment, when she looked up, descending the first slope into the grassy valley at her feet. It was a man on horseback.
When he reached the level sward, he pushed his horse to full speed, and galloped at a great pace straight across the plain. He seemed to be making a beeline across, as if intending to ride up the opposite ascent.
Felise involuntarily grasped her penknife so tightly that the point pricked her finger. This drew her attention to the fact that a beech-tree six or eight inches in diameter is not shield enough to conceal a well-developed form; or else she did not care to hide now; or else she was curious to see which way he was going; or else—a woman has so many reasons for everything she does it needs a volume to record them; but what she did was to step away from the tree, and in front of it, into full view.
Her lips were slightly parted; her form rose a little, for she had drawn herself up unconsciously to her full height. Her eyelids drooped, and a dreamy expression came into the beautiful grey of her eyes. The deep attention with which she gazed partly overcame the involuntary muscles, so that her heart beat slower, and her breath was scarcely drawn.
The horseman rode straight towards the hill, but at the foot turned to the right, and began to go round the valley. He had changed his mind, or thought perhaps that he should find no better place for a gallop than in this natural circus.
Instantly her breath came quicker, and her heart beat faster; the nerves had relieved the muscles. He was not going away yet.
In following the outline of the plain, he must pass close to her, though much lower, and just the other side of the clump of beeches. The curve brought him nearer and nearer, till she thought he must see her; yet he did not appear to do so. Thud, thud—an occasional click as the hoofs struck a stray flint. He was looking straight at her!
