And now, marvel of marvels, here before her, a living reality, was the face she had never thought to see again--long and brown, with its thin, high-ridged nose, its delicate nostrils, its black, brilliant eyes, its mobile mouth, and its massive, rounded chin, together with that air of almost defiant recklessness which of itself would have served to mark the man out from his more commonplace fellows, and which seemed to sit so easily upon him. And there, too, had further proof been needed, was the tiny brown mole on the lower half of the left side of his face, which had caught her attention at the time, as a "beauty-patch" might have done on the cheek of one of her own sex. She tightened her grip on the back of the chair, and their eyes met. Into his there came no flicker of recognition, no slightest evidence which betrayed any consciousness on his part that they had ever met before. His glance encountered hers with the clear, unwinking steadfastness of one stranger regarding another. His features were grave and composed; there was no start of surprise; the sallow of his cheeks remained untinged by any faintest flush of color. Miss Baynard was bewildered. Could it be that he had known beforehand whom he was about to meet and had schooled himself accordingly? But this was a question Nell had no grounds for asking herself. [Illustration: "She had recognized the notorious Captain Nightshade."] The girl's perturbation and amazement passed unnoticed by Mrs. Mardin, whose eyesight was no longer what it once had been, and she now went through the office of introducing the young people in the fewest words possible. Miss Baynard curtsied a little _gauchement_, which was not like her. Mr. Dare, with his hat pressed to his heart, made her a profound bow. "I am indeed fortunate in finding here to-day a lady whom it has long been the chief desire of my existence to have the felicity of meeting." Such a speech addressed nowadays by a young man to a young woman would seem, and rightly so, absurdly high-flown and unreal; but to our great-grandfathers and grandmothers it would have appeared nothing of the kind. They and their progenitors for generations had brought the art of compliment, especially as between the sexes, to a degree of perfection of which we, in these degenerate times, retain little more than the tradition. Very likely it was all very artificial and insincere, but the fair sex of a day which now seems so far removed not only expected it but liked it. If we have been brought up on sugared food, the taste for it generally clings to us through life.