The carriage had now drawn up on the long terraced promenade which skirts the sea shore--the then favourite meeting place of Madras residents at this evening hour. On this afternoon, however, society was evidently reserving itself for the entertainment at Government House, and was conspicuous by its absence. A regimental band usually played at the Marine Villa, but the stand was unoccupied now, silence and emptiness reigned. Hester did not regret either the music or the company. She directed her coachman to draw up at a point where she always thought the breeze seemed to blow freshest from the sea, and sat engrossed in her book, though the light was fading. She heard the footsteps of two pedestrians on the asphalt pavement, but did not raise her eyes. Presently the pair returned from their stroll, and this time one of them halted in front of the landau, saying: "Good evening! Like us, I see you have come for a whiff of the sea breeze!" Great was Hester's surprise when she heard the familiar voice. "Mark," she exclaimed, and the face which had worn such a wistful expression lit up with pleasure. Once again, at all events, she was destined to exchange greetings with her friend. But she now perceived that he was not alone. On the pavement stood an elderly man, his dark searching eyes surmounted by a pair of rather fierce eyebrows, a smooth shaven face revealing a sensitive mouth and well-formed chin. The searching eyes were fixed on her with a distinct air of interest. "My chief wishes to make your acquaintance," pursued Mark. "Mr. Worsley--Mrs. Rayner." "We passed you when we were proceeding on our prowl, but you were so intent on your book my young friend seemed timid about disturbing you," said the Collector, with a smile and an amused glance at Mark. "But I was not to be cheated out of an opportunity of meeting Mr. Cheveril's old friend." There was a mixture of courtesy and kindliness in his manner which proved a ready passport to Hester's heart, and also brought a joyous smile to Mark's face; for this was not, he knew well, the tone of greeting Mr. Worsley was used to give to the ladies of the station. Underneath his manner to little Mrs. Samptor there was always a veiled though kindly contempt, while Mrs. Goldring's portion was often an unmistakable scowl. But in his manner to Hester there was a winning combination of immediate belief and liking, something fatherly too which Mark had occasionally felt in his attitude to himself. Another carriage now made its appearance and drew up alongside of Hester's landau. "I felt sure that these were your syces' liveries, my dear," called Mrs. Fellowes, not at first perceiving that Hester was engaged in conversation. Then she observed the two gentlemen, and Mark quickly went round to shake hands, claiming her as one of his earliest friends in Madras. Meanwhile the Collector pursued his talk with Hester, saying presently: