et, by rail, to Heartburg,
a town of some note about four miles distant. Not a single tall lady got
out of the train. Not a lady at all that Lionel could see. There were
two fat women, tearing about after their luggage, both habited in men's
drab greatcoats, or what looked like them; and there was one very young
lady, who stood back in apparent perplexity, gazing at the scene of
confusion around her.

"_She_ cannot be Miss Tempest," deliberated Lionel. "If she is, my
mother must have mistaken her age; she looks but a child. No harm in
asking her, at any rate."

He went up to the young lady. A very pleasant-looking girl, fair, with a
peach bloom upon her cheeks, dark brown hair and eyes, soft and brown
and luminous. Those eyes were wandering to all parts of the platform,
some anxiety in their expression.

Lionel raised his hat.

"I beg your pardon. Have I the honour of addressing Miss Tempest?"

"Oh, yes, that is my name," she answered, looking up at him, the peach
bloom deepening to a glow of satisfaction, and the soft eyes lighting
with a glad smile. "Have you come to meet me?"

"I have. I come from my mother, Lady Verner."

"I am so glad," she rejoined, with a frank sincerity of manner perfectly
refreshing in these modern days of artificial young ladyism. "I was
beginning to think nobody had come; and then what could I have done?"

"My sister would have come with me to receive you, but for an accident
which occurred to her just before it was time to start. Have you any
luggage?"

"There's the great box I brought from India, and a hair-trunk, and my
school-box. It is all in the van."

"Allow me to take you out of this crowd, and it shall be seen to," said
Lionel, bending to offer his arm.

She took it, and turned with him; but stopped ere more than a step or
two had been taken.

"We are going wrong. The luggage is up that way."

"I am taking you to the carriage. The luggage will be all right."

He was placing her in it, when she suddenly drew back and surveyed it.

"What a pretty carriage!" she exclaimed.

Many said the same of the Verner's Pride equipages. The colour of the
panels was of that rich shade of blue called ultra-marine, with white
linings and hammer-cloths, while a good deal of silver shone on the
harness of the horses. The servants' livery was white and silver, their
small-clothes blue.

Lionel handed her in.

"Have we far to go?" she asked.

"Not five minutes' drive."

He close