e head _khitmatgar_ appeared and
informed the "_Sahib log_, protectors of the poor, that their meat was
ready." So we filed into the dining-room.

Isaacs was placed at Miss Westonhaugh's right, and her brother sat on
his other side. Ghyrkins was opposite his niece at the other end, and
Kildare and I were together, facing Westonhaugh and Isaacs, a party of
six. Of course Kildare sat beside the lady.

The dinner opened very pleasantly. _I_ could see that Isaacs'
undisguised gratitude and delight in having at last met the man who had
helped him had strongly predisposed John Westonhaugh in his favour. Who
is it that is not pleased at finding that some deed of kindness, done
long ago with hardly a thought, has borne fruit and been remembered and
treasured up by the receiver as the turning-point in his life? Is there
any pleasure greater than that we enjoy through the happiness of
others--in those rare cases where kindness is not misplaced? I had had
time to reflect that Isaacs had most likely told a part of his story to
Miss Westonhaugh on the previous afternoon as soon as he had recognised
her brother. He might have told her before; I did not know how long he
had known her, but it must have been some time. Presently she turned to
him.

"Mr. Isaacs," said she, "some of us know something of your history. Why
will you not tell us the rest now? My uncle has heard nothing of it, and
I know Lord Steepleton is fond of novels."

Isaacs hesitated long, but as every one pressed him in turn, he yielded
at last. And he told it well. It was exactly the narrative he had given
me, in every detail of fact, but the whole effect was different. I saw
how true a mastery he had of the English language, for he knew his
audience thoroughly, and by a little colour here and an altered
expression there he made it graphic and striking, not without humour,
and altogether free of a certain mystical tinge he had imparted to it
when we were alone. He talked easily, with no more constraint than on
other occasions, and his narrative was a small social success. I had not
seen him in evening dress before, and I could not help thinking how much
more thoroughly he looked the polished man of the world than the other
men. Kildare never appeared to greater advantage than in the uniform and
trappings of his profession. In a black coat and a white tie he looked
like any other handsome young Englishman, utterly without individuality.
But Isaacs, with his pale co