th her heart throbbing. For an instant or two
it seemed as if that dark figure along by the trees were inclined to
turn and leave; but presently Natalie Lind knew rather than saw that
this slender and graceful woman with the black dress and the deep veil
was approaching her. She came nearer; for a second she came closer; some
little white thing was dropped into the girl's lap, and the stranger
passed quickly on.

"Anneli, Anneli," the young mistress said, "the lady has dropped her
locket! Run with it--quick!"

"No, Fraulein," said the other, quite as breathlessly, "she meant it for
you. Oh, look, Fraulein!--look at the poor lady--she is crying."

The sharp eyes of the younger girl were right. Surely that slender
figure was being shaken with sobs as it hurried away and was lost among
the groups coming through the Marble Arch! Natalie Lind sat there as one
stupefied--breathless, silent, trembling. She had not looked at the
locket at all.

"Anneli," she said, in a low voice, "was that the same lady? Are you
sure?"

"Certain, Fraulein," said her companion, eagerly.

"She must be very unhappy," said the girl. "I think, too, she was
crying."

Then she looked at the trinket that the stranger had dropped into her
lap. It was an old-fashioned silver locket formed in the shape of a
heart, and ornamented with the most delicate filagree work; in the
centre of it was the letter N in old German text. When Natalie Lind
opened it, she found inside only a small piece of paper, on which was
written, in foreign-looking characters, "_From Natalie to Natalushka_."

"Anneli, she knows my name!" the girl exclaimed.

"Would you not like to speak to the poor lady, Fraulein?" said the
little German maid, who was very much excited, too. "And do you not
think she is sure to come this way again--to morrow, next day, some
other day? Perhaps she is ill or suffering, or she may have lost some
one whom you resemble--how can one tell?"

CHAPTER V.

PIONEERS.

Before sitting down to breakfast, on this dim and dreary morning in
February, George Brand went to one of the windows of his sitting-room
and looked abroad on the busy world without. Busy indeed it seemed to
be--the steamers hurrying up and down the river, hansoms whirling along
the Embankment, heavily laden omnibuses chasing each other across
Waterloo Bridge, the underground railway from time to time rumbling
beneath those wintry-looking gardens, and always and everywhere t