eved,
and he remembered to have heard of her, years ago, when he was a boy and
first met Neil McPherson at Melrose. Faint memories, too, he had of
hearing her talked about at the memorable Thanksgiving dinner which had
preceded his grandfather's death and his own sickness, when they said he
had asked Miss McPherson to send for her and stuff her with mince pie,
as a recompense for the many times she had gone hungry to bed because
there was not money enough to buy dinner for three. And all this came
back to him as he stood in the station in Carnarvon waiting for the
train.

"She must be a young lady now seventeen or eighteen years old," he
thought; "and Neil says she is beautiful. But I dare say she is like
most English girls--with a giggle and a drawl and a supreme contempt for
anything outside the United Kingdom. I fancy, too, she is tall and thin,
with sharp elbows and big feet, like many of her sisters. I wonder what
she will think of me. People say I am more English than American, which
I don't like, for if there is a loyal son of Uncle Sam in this world I
am he. I can't help this confounded foreign accent which I have picked
up from being over here so long, and I do not know as I wish to help it.
Perhaps it may help me with Miss Bessie, as well as my English cut
generally," and Grey glanced at himself in the dingy little glass to see
how he did look.

What he saw was a broad-shouldered, finely-formed young man, who stood
so erect, that he seemed taller than he really was. A face which
strangers would trust without a moment's hesitancy; large dark-blue
eyes, thick brown hair just inclined to curl at the ends; and a smile
which would have made the plainest face handsome and which was Grey's
chief point of attraction, if we except his voice, which, though rich
and full, was very sweet, and expressive of the genuine interest and
sympathy he felt for every human being in distress or otherwise. No
tired, discouraged mother in a railway car, trying to hush her crying
infant, would ever fear that he would be annoyed or wish her and her
child in Jericho. On the contrary, she would, if necessary, ask him to
hold her baby for a moment, and the child would go to him
unhesitatingly, so great was the mesmeric power he exercised over his
fellow-creatures. This influence or power was inborn, and he could no
more have helped it than he could have helped his heartbeats. But, added
to this, was a constant effort on his part to make