"She's better than good," said Sir Reginald, with his thin, yellow smile, extending his hand, and leading her to a chair; "it is visiting the sick and the halt, and doing real good, for it is a pleasure to see her--a pleasure bestowed on a miserable soul who has very few pleasures left;" and with his other thin hand he patted gently the fingers of her fat hand. "Here is my brother David," continued the baronet. "He says you will hardly know him." "She'll hardly believe it. She was very young when she last saw me, and the last ten years have made some changes," said Uncle David, laughing gently. At the baronet's allusion to that most difficult subject, the lapse of time, Lady May winced and simpered uneasily; but she expanded gratefully as David Arden disposed of it so adroitly. "We'll not speak of years of change. I knew you instantly," said Lady May happily. "And you have been to Vichy, Reginald. What stay do you make here?" "None, almost; my crippled foot keeps me always on a journey. It seems a paradox, but so it is. I'm ordered to visit Buxton for a week or so, and then I go, for change of air, to Yorkshire." As Alice entered, she saw the pretty face, the original of the brilliant portrait which had haunted her on her night journey to Twyford, and she heard a very silvery voice chatting gaily. Mr. Longcluse was leaning on the end of the sofa on which Grace Maubray sat; and Vivian Darnley, it seemed in high spirits, was standing and laughing nearly before her. Alice Arden walked quickly over to welcome her handsome guest. With a misgiving and a strange pain at her heart, she saw how much more beautiful this young lady had grown. Smiling radiantly, with her hand extended, she greeted and kissed her fair kinswoman; and, after a few words, sat down for a little beside her; and asked Mr. Longcluse how he did; and finally spoke to Vivian Darnley, and then returned to her conventional dialogue of welcome and politeness with her cousin--_how_ cousin, she could not easily have explained. The young ladies seemed so completely taken up with one another that, after a little waiting, the gentlemen fell into a desultory talk, and grew gradually nearer to the window. They were talking now of dogs and horses, and Mr. Longcluse was stealing rapidly into the good graces of the young man. "When we come up after dinner, you must tell me who these people are," said Grace Maubray, who did not care very much what she said. "That young man is a Mr. Vivian, ain't he?" "No--Darnley," whispered Alice; "Vivian is his Christian name." "Very romantic names; and, if he really means half he says, he is a very romantic person." She laughed. "What has he been saying?" Alice wondered. But, after all, it was possible to be romantic on almost any subject. "And the other?" "He's a Mr. Longcluse," answered Alice. "He's rather clever," said the young lady, with a grave decision that amused Alice.