y first opportunity, as I have
not been out since until to-day."

"Please do not mention it. Had I dreamed who it was thus braving
the storm, I would have offered my assistance earlier. I have not
yet recovered from my surprise on discovering the identity of my
fellow-passenger that evening."

"Indeed!" laughed Miss Carleton; "my presence here is very easily
explained. It is simply the result of one of Mrs. Mainwaring's
numerous whims, as she suddenly decided upon an immediate return to
England. I think, however, that the surprise was mutual."

"Accordingly, I suppose that mutual explanations should follow,"
he answered, lightly. Then added, more seriously, "Miss Carleton,
I am aware that there is much in my conduct that must seem
inexplicable to you. In a few weeks everything will have been
made clear, in the natural course of events; but, if you would be
at all interested to hear, I would greatly prefer that you should
have a perfect understanding of the situation before the facts
become generally known."

"I should greatly appreciate such a mark of confidence," she replied.

"If agreeable to you, Miss Carleton, let us pass around to the other
side; it is less crowded there. My friend and I have two chairs,
and, as he has gone to his state-room to do some writing, we shall
be in no danger of interruption."

When comfortably seated, the young man said, "It is a strange story
which I have to tell, but I will try not to tax your patience too
severely. One week ago this afternoon, Miss Carleton, in passing
through the hall at Fair Oaks, I accidentally overheard a portion
of your conversation with Mr. Whitney, as you related to him the
story of the unfortunate love and death of my father, Harold Scott
Mainwaring."

Miss Carleton started violently, but said nothing, and, after a
slight pause, the speaker continued,--

"My earliest recollections are of a home in Australia, with
foster-parents, whose name it is unnecessary to mention, but whose
care and love for me seem, as I now look back, to have equalled that
bestowed by natural parents upon their own child. Not until I had
reached the age of fifteen years did I ever hear of my own father.
I then learned that he had given me, at birth, into the keeping
of my foster-parents, with instructions that, unless he himself
should call for me, I was not even to know of his existence until
within five or six years of my majority. I learned, further, that
his ac