he was, and kept her away that she might not meet him; or had
Colonel Armytage been suddenly called away to another part of the
country, and had his daughter accompanied him?

That the latter suspicion was correct he was convinced by overhearing
the disjointed remarks of some people near him: "Great loss to our
society--quite unexpected--very charming woman--sweet girl, the
daughter. About him--two opinions--proud--"

The speakers moved on. Morton was convinced that the sweet girl must
refer to Miss Armytage--surely to no one else. But then came the
thought that he was not to see her that evening--perhaps he might never
again meet her. The pain and disappointment he felt opened his eyes
more rapidly than anything else would have done to his own feelings. As
to enjoying the evening, that was out of the question. Still it would
be a satisfaction to hear something about her. He would inquire where
Colonel Armytage had gone. He was looking round for Mrs Edmonstone, as
he felt that he could ask her better than any one else, when his heart
gave an unwonted bound, for he saw entering the room, and leaning on the
arm of a fine military-looking man, whom he had no doubt was her father,
Miss Armytage herself. On the other side of her, endeavouring to engage
her in conversation, walked the stranger whom Glover thought so like
Alfonse Gerardin. The resemblance struck Morton, as his glance fell on
his countenance, as even greater than on the previous evening. Miss
Armytage seemed rather annoyed than otherwise with his attentions. As
Morton had been walking forward when he first saw the group he could not
stop short, so he continued to advance. The young lady put out her hand
frankly, though a gentle blush rose on her cheeks as she did so.

"Papa," she said, "I must introduce Mr Morton to you. I am sure that
you wish to thank him for the service he rendered me yesterday evening."

Colonel Armytage bowed, and assured Mr Morton that he was exceedingly
obliged to him; but he said this in a stiff way, which evidently annoyed
his daughter.

"I was fortunate indeed in being at hand; but I can claim no merit,"
replied Morton, in a modest manner.

Mrs Edmonstone came up and welcomed her young friend.

"I am so glad you have come back," she exclaimed, affectionately taking
her hand. "I was quite vexed at your having to run away to a
dinner-party, lest you should be too tired to dance this evening."

Edda assured her tha