About eleven o'clock
He had arrived at six o'clock that evening , and was only remaining the night , having expressed his intention of going on to Riva on the morrow . So , laughing at my fears -- fears which had been aroused by that strange warning of Sylvia 's -- I ascended to my room . I did not leave next morning , as my fair-faced little friend had suggested , neither did Pennington return . About eleven o'clock I strolled forth into the warm sunshine on the terrace , and there , to my surprise , saw Sylvia sitting upon one of the seats , with a cream sunshade over her head , a book in her lap , while by her side lounged the mysterious watcher of the night before -- the English clergyman , Mr. Shuttleworth of Andover . Neither noticed me . He was speaking to her slowly and earnestly , she listening attentively to his words . I saw that she sighed deeply , her fine eyes cast upon the ground .