that slender figure
could belong to none in Prince George but _Her_! He was overcome with
delight and amazement; he could scarcely credit his eyes. He wished in
the same instant he had spent more care on his appearance, and that he
had not kept them waiting so long.

The younger lady perceived him standing in the shadowy doorway, and came
toward him.

"Mr. Pevensey?" she began in a voice of cool inquiry. Then she stopped
aghast; and the colour flamed into her face. "_You!_" she exclaimed in
a voice too low to reach the older woman's ears. "Oh, I didn't know--I
never suspected it might be you!"

Garth was conscious of a complicated feeling of irritation, a kind of
jealousy of himself. "Why did they send for me, if they didn't know it
was me?" was his thought.

"What must you think of me?" she said in obvious distress.

"I am in the dark," said Garth helplessly.

She recovered her forces. "I am not in the habit of going to restaurants
alone," she said. "But the hotel here is so bad! I am afraid you must
think me a frivolous person, and I am anxious you should not think so."

"I don't," said Garth bluntly.

She smiled. "Very well," she said; "then there's no harm done."

"Natalie!" called the old lady, with a hint of irritation.

"Come and meet Mrs. Mabyn," she said quickly; and led the way.

"This is Mr. Pevensey, Mrs. Mabyn," she said.

The old lady regarded Garth with a sharp scrutiny; and Garth looked with
interest at her. She was a fragile, elegant, plaintive little person
of the old "lady-like" regime; but for all her gentleness, Garth was
somehow conscious that he faced a woman of an iron will. She had the
impatient, inattentive manner of one possessed by a single idea. With
the result of her examination she appeared but half satisfied; she
held out a delicate, wrinkled hand, dubiously.

"How do you do?" she said. "Please sit down."

"I am Natalie Bland," further explained the girl, who had again
retreated to the window embrasure. "Mrs. Mabyn and I are travelling
together."

"Dear Natalie is a daughter to me," murmured Mrs. Mabyn with commendable
feeling.

The two women exchanged a glance which Garth was at a loss to interpret.
He was looking at Natalie and he thought he saw patience, real
affection, and perhaps a little kindly amusement--but there was
something beyond; something grimmer and more determined, a hint
of rebellion.

"My husband, Canon Mabyn, was the rector of Christ's Church Cath