nd bony, with a long grey
beard, shaggy bent brows, keen dark eyes, and an eagle nose. He wore
clothes of rough grey woollen tweed, and carried a grey felt hat in one
long hand.

A moment after he had come out of the arch he caught sight of Brook, and
his rough face brightened instantly. He waved the grey hat and called
out.

"Hulloa, my boy! There you are, eh!"

His voice was thin, like many Scotch voices, but it carried far, and had
a manly ring in it. Brook did not answer, but waved his hat.

"That's my father," he said in a low tone to Clare. "May I introduce
him? And there's my mother--being carried up in the chair."

A couple of lusty porters were carrying Lady Johnstone up the steep
ascent. She was a fat lady with bright blue eyes, like her son's, and a
much brighter colour. She had a parasol in one hand and a fan in the
other, and she shook a little with every step the porters made. In the
rear, a moment later, came other porters, carrying boxes and bags of all
sizes. Then a short woman, evidently Lady Johnstone's maid, came quietly
along by herself, stopping occasionally to look at the sea.

Clare looked curiously at the party as they approached. Her first
impulse had been to leave Brook and go back alone to warn her mother. It
was not far. But she realised that it would be much better and wiser to
face the introduction at once. In less than five minutes Sir Adam had
reached them. He shook hands with Brook vigorously, and looked at him as
a man looks who loves his son. Clare saw the glance, and it pleased her.

"Let me introduce you to Miss Bowring," said Brook. "Mrs. Bowring and
Miss Bowring are staying here, and have been awfully good to me."

Sir Adam turned his keen eyes to Clare, as she held out her hand.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "but are you a daughter of Captain
Bowring who was killed some years ago in Africa?"

"Yes." She looked up to him inquiringly and distrustfully.

His face brightened again and softened--then hardened singularly, all at
once. She could not have believed that such features could change so
quickly.

"And my son says that your mother is here! My dear young lady--I'm very
glad! I hope you mean to stay."

The words were cordial. The tone was cold. Brook stared at his father,
very much surprised to find that he knew anything of the Bowrings, for
he himself had not mentioned them in his letters. But the porters,
walking more slowly, had just brought his mother up to w