he began to believe in her too, and
consequently to share some of the excitement which had now become
prevalent all through the house.

His suspense was destined to be short. While he was straining his eyes to
see what might be going on down the road, a small crowd of people came
round the corner of the house. In their midst walked a woman with a shawl
or cape over her head--a fierce and wilful figure which shook off the
hand kind Mrs. Deo laid on her arm, and shrank as the great front door
fell open, sending forth a flood of light which, to one less wedded to
wild ways and outdoor living, promised a hospitable cheer.

"Georgian's form!" muttered Ransom involuntarily to himself. "And
Georgian's face!" he felt obliged to add, as the light fell broadly
across her. "But not Georgian's ways and not Georgian's nature," he
impetuously finished as she slipped out of sight.

Then the mystery of _the brother_ came rushing over him and he yielded
himself again to the wonder of the situation till he was reawakened to
realities by the shuffling of feet on the stairway and the raised tones
of Mrs. Deo as she tried to make herself understood by her new and
somewhat difficult guest. A maid followed in their wake, and from some
as yet unexplored region below there rose the sound of clattering dishes.

It was a trying moment for him. He longed for another glimpse of the
girl, but feared to betray his own curiosity to the two women who
accompanied her. Should he be forced to allow her to enter her room
unseen? Might he not better run some small risk of detection? He had
escaped discovery before; wasn't it possible for him to escape it again?
He finally compromised matters by first flinging his door wide open and
then retreating to the other end of the room where the shadows appeared
heavy enough to hide him. From this point he cast a look down the hall
which was in a direct line from his present standpoint, and was fortunate
enough to catch a glimpse of the girl with her face turned in his
direction. Her companions, on the contrary, were standing with their
backs to him, one beside the door she had just thrown open, the other
at his wife's door on which she had just given a significant rap.

Such was the picture.

The girl absorbed all his attention. The shawl--a gay one with colors in
it--had fallen from her head and was trailing, wet and bedraggled, over
an equally bedraggled skirt. Soused with wet, her hair disheveled, and
all h