, and dark, and rather good-looking, with a slight black
mustache. He had a fur collar that went up to his eyes almost, and he
was not a young man. He was a gentleman," said Janey, who flattered
herself that she recognized such persons as bear without reproach that
grand old name--when she saw them.

"Would you know him again if you met him?"

"Anywhere," said Janey; "and I would know his voice."

"He wore mourning," said Miss Marlett, "and he told me he had known
Margaret's father. I heard him say a few words to her, in a very kind
way, about him. That seemed more comfort to Margaret than anything. 'He
did not suffer at all, my dear,' he said. He spoke to her in that way,
as an older man might."

"Why, how on earth could _he_ know?" cried Maitland. "No one was present
when her poor father died. His body was found in a--," and Maitland
paused rather awkwardly. There was, perhaps, no necessity for adding to
the public information about the circumstances of Mr. Shields' decease.
"He was overcome by the cold and snow, I mean, on the night of the great
storm."

"I have always heard that the death of people made drowsy by snow and
fatigue is as painless as sleep," said Miss Marlett with some tact.

"I suppose that is what the man must have meant," Maitland answered.

There was nothing more to be said on either side, and yet he lingered,
trying to think over any circumstance which might lend a clew in the
search for Margaret and of the mysterious Mr. Lithgow.

At last he said "Good-night," after making the superfluous remark that
it would be as well to let everyone suppose that nothing unusual or
unexpected had happened. In this view Miss Marlett entirely concurred,
for excellent reasons of her own, and now she began to regret that she
had taken Miss Harman into her counsels. But there was no help for it;
and when Maitland rejoined his cabman (who had been refreshed by tea),
a kind of informal treaty of peace was concluded between Janey and the
schoolmistress. After all, it appeared to Miss Marlett (and correctly)
that the epistle from the young officer whom Janey regarded as a brother
was a natural and harmless communication. It chiefly contained accounts
of contemporary regimental sports and pastimes, in which the writer had
distinguished himself, and if it did end "Yours affectionately,"
there was nothing very terrible or inflammatory in that, all things
considered. So the fair owner of the letter received it into