ervant
informed me that she had gone out; and that I should find Mr. Delamayn
here."

Julius bowed--and waited to hear more.

"I must beg you to forgive my intrusion," the stranger went on. "My
object is to ask permission to see a lady who is, I have been informed,
a guest in your house."

The extraordinary formality of the request rather puzzled Julius.

"Do you mean Mrs. Glenarm?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Pray don't think any permission necessary. A friend of Mrs. Glenarm's
may take her welcome for granted in this house."

"I am not a friend of Mrs. Glenarm. I am a total stranger to her."

This made the ceremonious request preferred by the lady a little more
intelligible--but it left the lady's object in wishing to speak to Mrs.
Glenarm still in the dark. Julius politely waited, until it pleased her
to proceed further, and explain herself The explanation did not appear
to be an easy one to give. Her eyes dropped to the ground. She hesitated
painfully.

"My name--if I mention it," she resumed, without looking up, "may
possibly inform you--" She paused. Her color came and went. She
hesitated again; struggled with her agitation, and controlled it. "I am
Anne Silvester," she said, suddenly raising her pale face, and suddenly
steadying her trembling voice.

Julius started, and looked at her in silent surprise.

The name was doubly known to him. Not long since, he had heard it from
his father's lips, at his father's bedside. Lord Holchester had charged
him, had earnestly charged him, to bear that name in mind, and to help
the woman who bore it, if the woman ever applied to him in time to come.
Again, he had heard the name, more lately, associated scandalously with
the name of his brother. On the receipt of the first of the anonymous
letters sent to her, Mrs. Glenarm had not only summoned Geoffrey himself
to refute the aspersion cast upon him, but had forwarded a private copy
of the letter to his relatives at Swanhaven. Geoffrey's defense had not
entirely satisfied Julius that his brother was free from blame. As
he now looked at Anne Silvester, the doubt returned upon him
strengthened--almost confirmed. Was this woman--so modest, so gentle, so
simply and unaffectedly refined--the shameless adventuress denounced
by Geoffrey, as claiming him on the strength of a foolish flirtation;
knowing herself, at the time, to be privately married to another man?
Was this woman--with the voice of a lady, the look of a lady, the ma