ever seen, save at one house
in Park Lane. Had this rustle of fine trappings been made for him? No;
the woman had a mind above such snobbishness, he thought. He suffered
for a moment the pang of a cynical idea; but the eyes of Mrs. Malbrouck
were on him and he knew that he was as nothing before her. Her eyes--how
they were fixed upon him! Only two women had looked so truthfully at him
before: his dead mother and--Margaret. And Margaret--why, how strangely
now at this instant came the thought that she was like his Margaret!
Wonder sprang to his eyes. At that moment a door opened and a girl
entered the room--a girl lissome, sweet-faced, well-bred of manner, who
came slowly towards them.

"My daughter, Mr. Thorne," the mother briefly remarked. There was no
surprise in the girl's face, only an even reserve of pleasure, as she
held out her hand and said: "Mr. Gregory Thorne and I are old enemies."
Gregory Thorne's nerve forsook him for an instant. He knew now the
reason of his vague presentiments in the woods; he understood why, one
night, when he had been more childlike than usual in his memory of the
one woman who could make life joyous for him, the voice of a voyageur,
not Jacques's nor that of any one in camp, sang:

"My dear love, she waits for me,
None other my world is adorning;
My true love I come to thee,
My dear, the white star of the morning.
Eagles spread out your wings,
Behold where the red dawn is breaking!
Hark, 'tis my darling sings,
The flowers, the song-birds awaking;
See, where she comes to me,
My love, ah, my dear love!"

And here she was. He raised her hand to his lips, and said: "Miss
Carley, you have your enemy at an advantage."

"Miss Carley in Park Lane, Margaret Malbrouck here in my old home," she
replied.

There ran swiftly through the young man's brain the brief story that
Pretty Pierre had told him. This, then, was the child who had been
carried away, and who, years after, had made captive his heart in London
town! Well, one thing was clear, the girl's mother here seemed inclined
to be kinder to him than was the guardian grandmother--if she was the
grandmother--because they had their first talk undisturbed, it may be
encouraged; amiable mothers do such deeds at times.

"And now pray, Mr. Thorne," she continued, "may I ask how came you
here in my father's house after having treated me so cavalierly
in L