It was very wrong of him to come in that manner, even if he did know that the Montellas were away. She managed to convey this opinion to him, although she did not put it into actual words. She was embarrassed and shy, and seemed scarcely to know what to say; and when she introduced him—as “Mr. Merryweather”—to Miss Lorm, she did it with a hesitancy which was distinctly noticeable. She wished Zillah would leave them to themselves; but Zillah meant to stop, and to find out as much as ever she could about the stranger, and to see if she could put two and two together to make four. So there was a sense of restraint between them which was uncomfortable in the extreme, and Raie worked herself up almost to the verge of tears. But it was worse still when Zillah, with almost impertinent curiosity, began to cross-question him with regard to his sojourn in the Holy Land. She was not satisfied until she had mentally “placed” him in the order of globe-trotters to which he belonged; and proceeded with such insistence that it needed all Mr. Merryweather’s skill to parry her questions. Raie found herself left out in the cold, and sat, the personification of silent reproach. She was almost glad when he rose to take his leave, and saw him downstairs with an air of dejection. Away from Miss Lorm, however, her spirits soon revived; and seeing that the library was unoccupied, she drew him inside. He bent down, and raising her face gently with his two hands, looked into her eyes with kindly scrutiny. “Well?” he interrogated, almost quizzingly. “I have come back. Is not my little Raie pleased?” “Yes,” she answered, returning his gaze without a smile; “but—” “‘But me no buts,’” he rejoined lightly. “I have displeased you, little girl. Is not that so? What have I done?” “You should have let me know that you were coming,” she said, in an aggrieved tone. “You have put me in a difficult position. Miss Lorm is very inquisitive; she will want to know all about you—and our acquaintance—when I go back to her. I would have had her out of the way if I had known. I have been in torture during the last half-hour.” “Poor child!” He bent still further and kissed her on the forehead. “I ought not to have come at all; but I was told that the Montellas and Anne were in Jerusalem, so I thought the coast was clear. I wanted to give you a pleasant surprise—but there! I always bungle everything I do.” “Oh, no!” The grasp on his arm tightened. “It _was_ a pleasant surprise, and of course you did not know Miss Lorm was here.” The smile which had been delayed began to play about her mouth and eyes. “Tell me what you have been doing, Ferdinand,” she added eagerly, as he pushed forward a chair. “I am longing to know. Was your mission to England successful?” “Almost—but not quite. A man I particularly want to consult—he is a solicitor—is at present in New York; but he will be back in about six weeks’ time, when I shall have to go to England again.”