s. Stonehouse. It is
wide and open and is just above the flower-borders, with a stone tail.
You can see the road from it by which Mr. Hilton comes from Port Lannoch.
He will be riding.' Pearl yielded at once to the diversion. It would at
any rate be something to do, to watch. Stephen opened the French window
and the child ran out on the balcony.

When Stephen came back to her seat Mrs. Stonehouse said quietly:

'I am glad she is away for a few minutes. She has been over wrought, and
I am always afraid for her. She is so sensitive. And after all she is
only a baby!'

'She is a darling!' said Stephen impulsively; and she meant it. Mrs.
Stonehouse smiled gratefully as she went on:

'I suppose you noticed what a hold on her imagination that episode of
Mollie Watford at the bank had. Mr. Stonehouse is, as perhaps you know,
a very rich man. He has made his fortune himself, and most honourably;
and we are all very proud of him, and of it. So Pearl does not think of
the money for itself. But the feeling was everything; she really loves
Mr. Robinson; as indeed she ought! He has done so much for us that it
would be a pride and a privilege for us to show our gratitude. My
husband, between ourselves, wanted to make him his partner. He tells me
that, quite independent of our feeling towards him, he is just the man he
wanted. And if indeed it was he who discovered the Alaskan goldfield and
organised and ruled Robinson City, it is a proof that Mr. Stonehouse's
judgment was sound. Now he is injured, and blind; and our little Pearl
loves him. If indeed he be the man we believe he is, then we may be able
to do something which all his millions cannot buy. He will come to us,
and be as a son to us, and a brother to Pearl. We will be his eyes; and
nothing but love and patience will guide his footsteps!' She paused, her
mouth quivering; then she went on:

'If it is not our Mr. Robinson, then it will be our pleasure to do all
that is necessary for his comfort. If he is a poor man he will never
want . . . It will be a privilege to save so gallant a man from hardship
. . . ' Here she came to a stop.

Stephen too was glad of the pause, for the emotion which the words and
their remembrances evoked was choking her. Had not Harold been as her
own father's son. As her own brother! . . . She turned away, fearing
lest her face should betray her.

All at once Mrs. Stonehouse started to her feet, her face suddenly white