ned and observed him. There was no
mistaking that tall, dark figure, as it rested against the parapet with
a listless grace. There she stood, in her long black cloak and gown, the
last dim light of evening falling tenderly on her pale, resolute young
face. There she stood--not three months since the spoiled darling of
her parents; the priceless treasure of the household, never left
unprotected, never trusted alone--there she stood in the lovely dawn of
her womanhood, a castaway in a strange city, wrecked on the world!

Vagabond as he was, the first sight of her staggered even the dauntless
assurance of Captain Wragge. As she slowly turned her face and looked
at him, he raised his hat, with the nearest approach to respect which a
long life of unblushing audacity had left him capable of making.

"I think I have the honor of addressing the younger Miss Vanstone?" he
began. "Deeply gratified, I am sure--for more reasons than one."

She looked at him with a cold surprise. No recollection of the day when
he had followed her sister and herself on their way home with Miss Garth
rose in her memory, while he now confronted her, with his altered manner
and his altered dress.

"You are mistaken," she said, quietly. "You are a perfect stranger to
me."

"Pardon me," replied the captain; "I am a species of relation. I had the
pleasure of seeing you in the spring of the present year. I presented
myself on that memorable occasion to an honored preceptress in your late
father's family. Permit me, under equally agreeable circumstances, to
present myself to _you_. My name is Wragge."

By this time he had recovered complete possession of his own impudence;
his party-colored eyes twinkled cheerfully, and he accompanied his
modest announcement of himself with a dancing-master's bow.

Magdalen frowned, and drew back a step. The captain was not a man to be
daunted by a cold reception. He tucked his umbrella under his arm and
jocosely spelled his name for her further enlightenment. "W, R,
A, double G, E--Wragge," said the captain, ticking off the letters
persuasively on his fingers.

"I remember your name," said Magdalen. "Excuse me for leaving you
abruptly. I have an engagement."

She tried to pass him and walk on northward toward the railway. He
instantly met the attempt by raising both hands, and displaying a pair
of darned black gloves outspread in polite protest.

"Not that way," he said; "not that way, Miss Vanstone, I beg and