who had so gallantly saved our darling
was meeting some of his reward . . . !'

She paused, her voice breaking. Stephen was in a glow of holy feeling.
Gladness, joy, gratitude, enthusiasm; she knew not which. It all seemed
like a noble dream which was coming true. Mrs. Stonehouse went on:-

'From Californian papers of last month we learned that Robinson, of
Robinson City, had sailed for San Francisco, but had disappeared when the
ship touched at Portland; and then the whole chain of his identity seemed
complete. Nothing would satisfy Pearl but that we should come at once to
England and see "The Man," who was wounded and blind, and do what we
could for him. Her father could not then come himself; he had important
work on hand which he could not leave without some preparation. But he
is following us and may be here at any time.

'And now, we want you to help us, Lady de Lannoy. We are not sure yet of
the identity of Mr. Robinson, but we shall know the instant we see him,
or hear his voice. We have learned that he is still here. Won't you let
us? Do let us see him as soon as ever you can!' There was a pleading
tone in her voice which alone would have moved Stephen, even had she not
been wrought up already by the glowing fervour of her new friend.

But she paused. She did not know what to say; how to tell them that as
yet she herself knew nothing. She, too, in the depths of her own heart
knew--_knew_--that it was the same Robinson. And she also knew that both
identities were one with another. The beating of her heart and the wild
surging of her blood told her all. She was afraid to speak lest her
voice should betray her.

She could not even think. She would have to be alone for that.

Mrs. Stonehouse, with the wisdom and power of age, waited, suspending
judgment. But Pearl was in a fever of anxiety; she could imagine nothing
which could keep her away from The Man. But she saw that there was some
difficulty, some cause of delay. So she too added her pleading. Putting
her mouth close to Lady de Lannoy's ear she whispered very faintly, very
caressingly:

'What is your name? Your own name? Your very own name?'

'Stephen, my darling!'

'Oh, won't you let us see The Man, Stephen; dear Stephen! I love him so;
and I do _so_ want to see him. It is ages till I see him! Won't you let
me? I shall be so good--Stephen!' And she strained her closer in her
little arms and kissed her all over face, cheek