the casual
customer the sensation of having intruded upon domestic privacy. The
consul's entrance tinkled a small bell which brought a figure to the
door. It was Ailsa Callender.

The consul was startled. He had not seen her since he had brought to
their cottage the news of the shipwreck with a precaution and delicacy
that their calm self-control and patient resignation, however, seemed to
make almost an impertinence. But this was no longer the handsome shop in
the chief thoroughfare with its two shopmen, which he previously knew as
"Callender's." And Ailsa here! What misfortune had befallen them?

Whatever it was, there was no shadow of it in her clear eyes and frank
yet timid recognition of him. Falling in with her stoical and reticent
acceptance of it, he nevertheless gathered that the Callenders had lost
money in some invention which James Gow had taken with him to Rio, but
which was sunk in the ship. With this revelation of a business interest
in what he had believed was only a sentimental relation, the consul
ventured to continue his inquiries. Mr. Gow had escaped with his life
and had reached Honduras, where he expected to try his fortunes anew.
It might be a year or two longer before there were any results. Did the
consul know anything of Honduras? There was coffee there--so she and her
father understood. All this with little hopefulness, no irritation,
but a divine patience in her eyes. The consul, who found that his watch
required extensive repairing, and had suddenly developed an inordinate
passion for cairngorms, watched her as she opened the show-case with no
affectation of unfamiliarity with her occupation, but with all her old
serious concern. Surely she would have made as thorough a shop-girl as
she would--His half-formulated thought took the shape of a question.

"Have you seen Mr. Gray since his return from the Mediterranean?"

Ah! one of the brooches had slipped from her fingers to the bottom of
the case. There was an interval or two of pathetic murmuring, with her
fair head under the glass, before she could find it; then she lifted
her eyes to the consul. They were still slightly suffused with her
sympathetic concern. The stone, which was set in a thistle--the national
emblem--did he not know it?--had dropped out. But she could put it in.
It was pretty and not expensive. It was marked twelve shillings on the
card, but he could have it for ten shillings. No, she had not seen Mr.
Gray since they ha