icited a single clue to the identity of the
possessor. He felt sure if he had three days more in Prince George he
could discover her: but unfortunately the weekly stage for the North
left the following morning; and the Bishop was waiting for him at
the Landing; likewise the _Leader_ back in New York was waiting for
stories--and not about blue eyes. It was at this point in his circular
train of reflections that he would resume packing with a gusty sigh.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door, and, upon opening it, was
not a little astonished to receive a note from the hands of a boy, who
signified his intention of waiting for an answer. It was contained in a
thick, square envelope with a crest on the flap; and was addressed in a
tall, angular, feminine hand. Garth, his mind ever running in the same
course, tore it open with a crazy hope in his heart; but the first
words brought him sharply back to earth.

"Will Mr. Garth Pevensey," thus it ran, "be good enough
to oblige an old lady by calling at the Bristol Hotel this
evening? Mrs. Mabyn will be awaiting him in the parlour;
and as it concerns a matter of supreme importance to her,
she trusts he will not fail her; no matter how late the
hour at which he may be able to come."

Garth dismissed the boy with a message to the effect that he would
answer the note in person. As he leisurely put his appearance in order,
he thought: "Verily one's adventures begin upon leaving home." He was
human, consequently his curiosity was pleasantly stimulated to discover
what lay before him: but the little adjective in the first sentence of
his appellant's letter was fatal to the idea of any violent enthusiasm
on her behalf.

The parlour of the Bristol Hotel was on the first floor above the street
level. Garth paused at the door; and cast a glance about the room. It
was empty except for two figures at the further end. The one he could
see more plainly was an old lady sitting in an easy-chair; she was
dressed in black, with a white cap and white wristbands; a spare, erect
little lady. Garth judged her to be the writer of the note. The other
figure, also a woman, was partly hidden in a window embrasure. She
was standing by the window holding the curtain back with one hand, and
looking into the street. She turned her head to speak to the old lady;
whereupon Garth's heart leapt in his bosom, the room rocked, and the
chandeliers burst into song; that clear profile,